


Blood Lust

by Limejelly



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Drinking, Frotting, Hand Jobs, Horror, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral, San'layn, Slow Burn, Vampires, Vampires doing vampire things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limejelly/pseuds/Limejelly
Summary: From birth, Mathias’ life has been planned for him, but a chance, supernatural encounter on his first solo mission will change that path for good.
Relationships: Mathias Shaw/Original Male Character, Nathanos Blightcaller/Mathias Shaw, Nathanos Blightcaller/Original Male Character(s), Nathanos/Mathias/OMC
Comments: 67
Kudos: 44
Collections: The Blood Lust Universe





	1. Love at First Fright

**Author's Note:**

> Born from a kinktober vampire fill that woke a need for a fully fleshed out vampire fic.
> 
> A massive thank you to @Trollsweat for making this readable in every way.

Moonlight barely broke through the dense canopy of leaves. It was not quite enough to fully illuminate the dirt track winding through the undergrowth; the soft drag of boot-sole against compacted soil was the only thing that kept Mathias Shaw from deviating off the path. The foliage of the forest floor was dense, yet he was almost silent as he picked his way through the roughage towards his target.

When he had dismounted his gryffon, and stabled her in the nearest town earlier in the evening, the woods there had been _alive_ , thrumming with the sounds of nocturnal animals. But here, now, there was only silence. For the last half hour he’d heard nothing. Not the hoot of an owl, nor the snuffling of boar, not even a single howl from a lone wolf. 

He heard nought but the too-fast hammering of his heart. The sound of rushing blood was loud in his ears.

Pathonia’s words echoed in his mind, replaying over and over. With no sound to distract him, it was the perfect opportunity for the words to sear themselves into his brain, _‘Do not let me down, Mathias. Prove yourself. Prove to me you have what it takes to get the job done, and done right.’_ On paper, it seemed like a simple task; assassinate the target, and bring the smuggler’s ledger back to SI:7. In practice, however, his palms sweat just _thinking_ about all the ways he could mess this up.

This was important. His first solo mission. He’d only have himself to blame if it all went wrong. 

The path he followed was just wide enough for two people to walk abreast. It twisted through the forest of giant oaks and elms, and finally opened out onto farmland. Mathias skirted the edge of the treeline, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement in the rickety barns or outhouses. It was clear that the farm had been abandoned long ago; the largest of the barns had all but collapsed under its own weight, tied together only by endless tendrils of ivy. Through a gaping maw that had once been a wall, a young sapling had found space to take root, its spindly branches stretched upwards towards the light. Inch by inch, nature had reclaimed that which had once been carefully tilled and tended.

Open fields, perhaps once filled with cattle, were now nothing but overgrown beds of tall grass, surrounded by rotting fence posts and fallen gates. A large farmhouse dominated the far end of the homestead; it looked as if it had once been an elegant building, and perhaps it would have been more fitting to call it a manor. It seemed to have fared slightly better than the outbuildings, though only by a little. In the pale light of the moon, it looked almost sad as it rotted away, a once loved home, abandoned and forgotten, cursed to never again hear the laughter of children, or know the warm smile of family. 

Still, it stood intact, defiant against the nature that battered it. It appeared that some care had been taken to keep it habitable, in the loosest sense of the word. Fresh boards had been nailed across the frames of missing windows, and shiny new locks installed on the doors. Mathias would have laughed at the pitiful attempt at security, if it hadn’t looked so ridiculous. Aside from the front door, he could see at least five decent points of entry from where he stood. 

The latest intelligence said that the smugglers had used the house as their headquarters only three days ago, but from what he could see, it was now completely abandoned. No signs of life. Not a whisper of sound.

So...no mission?

Surely, Mathias thought, if people were staying in the house, there would be light from at least one of the windows, from a fire to warm the building, or a lamp as people worked. He cursed his luck as his mission seemed to crumble from under his feet. 

They could all be sleeping, he reasoned, shifting into stealth and carefully picking his way forward. He kept to the grass, away from the gravelled pathway, where even the padded soles of his boots would make noise. It was a stupid not to have someone on watch duty, but then again, smugglers weren’t always the smartest bunch. 

Either his timing was plain unlucky, or the information he had received was wrong. Neither option boded well for him. The mission would, most likely, be a failure. Mathias wasn’t happy. Pathonia wouldn’t be happy. There was, at least, some hope for the ledger, a small consolation prize, but a prize nonetheless. As long as the gang leader hadn’t taken it with him, of course. 

He couldn’t - wouldn’t - go back empty handed, could only cross his fingers and hope that there was something useful to him inside the dilapidated house. A small token would perhaps save him from Pathonia’s anger. 

He made a careful circuit around the house, taking note of the footprints by the front door, the flattened grass and trampled flowers where people had obviously not watched where they walked. Nothing had been disturbed around the back of the house however, the thickly tangled brambles and dense patches of stinging nettles too hard to navigate through. 

He eventually found the safest entry point, through a window left ajar that led into the kitchen, and picked his way through the brush to get to it. There was a strong scent of mint and basil from the overgrown herb garden under the window, growing stronger as he brushed through the plants to jump up onto the ledge, and force the window up into its frame. The window creaked on rusty hinges, grinding loudly as it moved for the first time in a decade, or more. Mathias winced. It was hardly a stealthy entrance, and if there was anyone around, he had to assume that they had heard it. 

Still, he was on a mission. He’d deal with any problems when they arose.

He vaulted into the room, feet touching down on a rotten floorboard that protested loudly as he landed, one hand already reaching for his blades as he visually swept the area. All was quiet. The inside of the building was in barely better condition than the outside, the air thick with the stench of rot and mould.

However, the smell of decay was mixed with the aroma of freshly cooked meat; in the hearth, embers of a recent fire still smoldered, but the flames looked to have died down hours ago. The heavy wooden dining table was damp to the touch, three of the five chairs tossed to the side, broken and unusable. Upon the dusty and stained surface sat the remains of a roast dinner. The cutlery lay untouched. Mathias wrinkled his nose. The very idea of using his hands and teeth to tear chunks of meat from the bone was abhorrent. Orcish, even. 

Mathias crept out of the kitchen and deeper into the house, through a frame missing it’s door. He checked every room as he moved down the hall, finding nothing of note. In the remains of what was once a sitting room, was a sofa that had been covered with a blanket, a futile attempt to make it seem clean and comfortable to use. The next room along the hall was filled with broken furniture and tattered wall hangings, a mound of twisted wood and fabric, covered in mould that caught in the back of Mathias’ throat, and burned as he breathed in. 

A wide, sweeping staircase led to the upper floor, a sad reminder that the house had once been quite grand. Mathias made his way up carefully, testing each step with his foot before putting any weight on it. Footprints disturbing the thick layer of dust showed him the safest path to take upwards. 

Something was wrong. Mathias could feel it in his gut. He couldn’t tell exactly _what_ was wrong, but he knew he could trust his instincts implicitly, they had saved his life on more than one occasion. The house was empty, his search had been thorough, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t want him here. Almost as if the house itself was telling him to leave.

The upper landing split into two halves. The left half had a single room above the kitchen, which was filled with neatly stacked crates. Mathias could only assume that they were filled with illicit goods. The smugglers hadn’t bothered to board the upstairs windows, and icy wind whipped in through a crack in the pane of glass, as cold moonlight scattered over the tattered rug. 

He didn’t waste time checking the crates, he could do that later, when his mission was complete. He left the single room, and instead made his way through the upper right portion of the house. He took a few steps, then froze.

The unmistakable stench of fresh blood and death hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. 

It was carnage.

Four bodies, limbs twisted at awkward angles like puppets with their strings cut, were dropped in the hallway, discarded like trash. Mathias felt sick, he’d seen death before, of course - and had even caused it - but something about this was... different. There was no respect for the bodies at all. No, this was done by an assassin with no value for human life, and a joy for causing fear. 

He knelt down next to the nearest body and checked for a pulse. The corpse was still warm, though the expression frozen on it’s face would haunt his nightmares for years to come. It was twisted into such terror, Mathias couldn’t even begin to imagine what they had seen in their last moments.

Hands shaking in the dim light, Mathias checked the bodies for the cause of death. There was no blood on, or pooled around the bodies. Poison, then? Perhaps a disagreement had seen them end each other over a dinner of poisonous, hallucinogenic mushrooms? He shook his head, annoyed at himself. His take was definitely wrong and he knew it. 

He was rifling through the pockets of a woman in her early forties, pointedly refusing to look at her blank, staring eyes and mouth open in a silent scream, when a bang from the room to his left had his heart try to claw its way out of his chest through his throat. He scrambled backwards, grabbing for his blades as he stood, desperately trying to swallow his heart back down. Mouth dry and eyes wide, he forced himself forward on legs so heavy he may as well have been wearing lead boots. How had his first mission turned out this way? Every atom of his being told him to run, to flee, to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible.

He knew Pathonia would have his head if he did. The future Spymaster of the Alliance, running from an assassin like a coward. That would never do. SI:7 didn’t run, and certainly weren’t cowards. His reputation was on the line, but that didn’t stop him wishing he had someone with him, someone with a little more experience.

Another bang, this time followed by the choked cry of a dying man, and the loud crumple of a body hitting the floor. 

Mathias forgot every lesson he’d ever been taught, as he stood, rooted to the spot in the moonlight. The door creaked loudly on its hinges as it swung open, and a large figure exited the room, stopping to stare at him with bored eyes. 

A large figure shaped like a man, but... not. 

Mathias swallowed hard, nervous under the gaze of the red eyes fixed upon him. The... man stood tall, his posture confident, assessing Mathias’ intrusion. He seemed to be lacking in patience, viewing Mathias’ presence as an annoyance. Dressed in heavy leather and mail, more favoured to the North than anywhere close to Stormwind, the man seemed to melt into the shadows and reform with every breath Mathias forced into his aching lungs. 

There was no running from this, Mathias knew that much. His fight or flight response activated, and he chose to fight, gripping his blades tighter. No doubt he’d die much like the smugglers did, but at least he wouldn’t die a coward, running from a monster that would find him anyway. 

The man’s red eyes narrowed and his dark moustache quirked up as he smiled before he laughed, his entire body wracking with uncontrolled joy. “Little spy, little spy,” he taunted, in a drawl, “I can taste your fear from here. It’s... _intoxicating._ ” 

Mathias swallowed again, if only to try and unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

“Your heartbeat is so fast, so scared,” the red eyed demon said, reaching out with a finger to tap the racing rhythm on the wall, “Are you going to fight me? Adorable that you think you’ll win.” 

The voice was unnatural, distorted in a way Mathias had never heard before. Cold as the grave, even with the amusement tinging its tone. It made Mathias’ skin crawl.

“Well?”

Mathias would have answered, if he could remember how to speak, or how to move any part of his body. The other man moved forward so fluidly, he was nothing more than a shadow, only made solid as he passed through the patch of moonlight streaming in from a hole in the roof. He grinned, with teeth too sharp to be human, teeth that took Mathias back to a book he’d borrowed from Stormwind library when he was nine. Fairytales of the Eastern Kingdoms. Chapter six, complete with artist’s renditions. 

As the figure moved closer, Mathias could see the blood covering his lower face, thick in his facial hair, and dripping from his lips. Fear like he’d never felt before gripped his heart in a vice, and he was sure it skipped a beat. Or five.

Wide eyed, he breathed heavily, uncontrollable panic coursing through his body. “You...you’re a San’layn.” 

The creature grinned wide, “Very good, little spy. At least you’re somewhat intelligent.” 

“You can’t be,” Mathias’ voice quivered, “They’re a myth...”

“Am I?” The man tipped his head back and hummed in thought, “Hmm, no, I’m absolutely certain I exist. I’m sure the deceased smugglers would attest to my existence, if only you could ask them.” That seemed to amuse him enough to chuckle darkly. 

This couldn’t be real, someone was surely playing a cruel joke on him. Perhaps SI:7 set him up, this was a hazing ritual he didn’t know about. Mathias lunged forwards, his blades aimed for the other man’s chest. The solid figure seemed to disintegrate before him, his momentum sent him staggering forward. Quickly correcting himself, he spun, slashing wildly, his blades shining in the moonlight as they arched through the air. 

The figure laughed, reforming further down the hallway, and stepping on the bodies as it walked closer. “That’s not a nice way to treat someone who did you a favour, is it? You wanted these people dead, did you not?” 

Always the top student, and well above his peers, Mathias had never been outclassed. It came as a rude awakening that he wasn’t as good as he thought. He’d been personally trained by the best, but it meant nothing against an opponent who held supernatural powers. 

He needed a way to gain the upper hand. He shifted into stealth, and slipped down the hallway in the hopes the San’layn would lose track of him. 

The creature had seemed surprised for only a moment, his glowing red eyes following the path Mathias had taken, to pin him down, hidden in the darkest corner of the hallway. “You can hide, little spy, but I can still hear your heartbeat, smell your fear. I can pinpoint your location in total darkness.” 

Mathias didn’t have time to react when the shadow moved, and a second later he was wrenched from the corner with more strength than was normal. His blades were gone, tossed across the floor, and sliding to a stop a few meters out of reach, useless. He felt the man’s form solidify behind him, indisputably real as one cold hand wrapped tight around his throat, and the other wrenched his arm back. 

The creature leaned in close and pulled Mathias’ head back against its shoulder, scenting a path from collarbone to ear, and following it with his tongue, leaving smudges of blood on the pale neck. “You taste of terror.” 

Mathias was certain he did. His body was paralysed with it, but the worst part was knowing he’d die as nothing more than a toy, played with then discarded, left broken and decaying in an old, rotting house. And if, somehow, he did survive, no one at SI:7 would believe him if he returned and said he’d seen a San’layn. It would harm his reputation more than anything else

He was certain, however, that his life would end this night. He would follow his father, assassinated before he was born, and his mother, murdered when he was just a child. His Grandmother, Pathonia, was the only living relative he had, and Mathias was sure she’d just move on and train someone else for Spymaster instead. Such was the cold life he’d been born into.

Mathias grit his teeth and closed his eyes. He pictured his grandmother, with her bejewelled fingers and stern face. Pathonia had taught him, after all, that if he was going down, he was going down fighting. And that’s exactly what he would do. He brought his free arm back as hard as he could, and elbowed the monster in the ribs. It wasn’t enough to injure, but the element of surprise had the creature’s grip loosen enough so he could pull away. 

Mathias screamed as he felt his arm - still held tighter than he thought - twist unnaturally and dislocate at the shoulder. The pain burned, but the adrenaline rush of fighting for his life was enough to keep him moving. He grabbed both blades from the floor in his good hand, and forcibly slammed his back into the wall to knock his shoulder back into place. It slid back with a disgusting pop that had him scream again, as his mouth filled with bile. 

The creature watched him with amusement, head cocked as if contemplating why Mathias was different from the other humans he had been in contact with. Mathias wouldn’t run, or accept death, nor did he scream in terror at the very sight of a San’layn. Scream in pain, yes, but he could hardly be blamed for that.

Mathias faced the creature again, blades up, heavily favouring his injured side. 

The creature didn’t move to attack him, only raised his hands and slowly clapped. “Well, that was probably the most idiotic thing I’ve seen in a few decades. Congratulations on exceeding my expectations of stupidity.” 

“I will not let you kill me without a fight, I will not be easy prey.” 

The creature shrugged under the heavy leather coat, and managed to look incredibly bored as he raked his eyes over Mathias’ body. The spy was young, barely into his twenties, with a face that already said he’d seen too much. His hair pulled back into a high ponytail with long bangs framing vivid green eyes. A pitiful excuse for facial hair surrounded wet lips, parted and panting. 

“You’re like a little boy playing dress up. Aren’t you a little too young to be sent out on solo missions?” 

“Are we fighting or are you going to keep asking questions?” Mathias barked.

“YOU are fighting, I have made no moves to attack, only defend, and your injuries are of your own making. If I were to fight you, you would last barely more than a second, you would already be missing half your throat.” 

Mathias raised his head, somewhat dropping the defensive stance as he realised that much was true. Still, he remained ready to fight, but didn’t doubt that if the San’layn wanted him dead, then he wouldn’t even see it coming. 

“Why won’t you kill me? You’re not against killing,” he gestured with his chin to the dead bodies littering the hallway.

“You wish to die? Interesting.” 

“No! Of course I don’t!”

The monster shrugged, “That is my business, and I don’t care to share. Speaking of business, I do believe you had some here, and I have already taken care of it for you.” 

Mathias nodded, an ever so slow tilt of his head. “I have orders. I need a ledger.” 

“It’s probably in the bedroom, if he was smart enough to keep it close so little spies didn’t steal it from under his nose,” the San’layn said and gestured to the room he’d originally come out of. Mathias didn’t move, wary of moving too close to the monster.

“Go on then,” the nightmare snapped impatiently. 

Mathias crept forward until he was in reach of the monster, and darted past him into the room. 

“Be a good boy and burn this house down when you’re done, hmm? You can take credit for the kills, but it wouldn’t look good if they didn’t die by a blade, would it?”

“Why are you helping me?” Mathias asked as he turned to the door, but the creature was already gone. 

He didn’t like it, the house still felt haunted, something in the air making the hairs on his neck stand on end, as if the dead were watching him. The silence returned, uncomfortably thick in the unwelcome atmosphere. Mathias grabbed a red, leather-bound book from the desk and flipped through to make sure it was what he needed, then ran. 

Sprinting across the overgrown fields with not a care that he could potentially be seen, Mathias put as much distance between himself and the house as possible. 

As he ran, the house burned, and two glowing red eyes watched him from the trees.


	2. Back to Normality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to @Trollsweat for fixing my mess!

“Your report is accurate?”

Mathias nodded at his grandmother, “it is.” 

Pathonia narrowed her eyes, as if she knew that the brown report folder in her hands was full of lies. Of all the missions that crossed her desk, the one she’d picked for Mathias had been the easiest; a simple assassination and retrieve, against targets far less skilled than him. She had known he wouldn’t fail. It had been the perfect first solo mission for him, one that played to his strengths. Even so, though he had been successful, something intangible in the report didn’t smell right to her. 

Mathias resisted the urge to shift his weight, he didn’t want to risk appearing nervous. He stood to attention, feet shoulder width apart, one arm behind his back and the other in a sling, tucked against his chest. The report was fine, he’d made sure to double and triple check that there were no contradictions. He had carefully explained his dislocated shoulder away as his own carelessness, just to give Pathonia a mistake to focus on in the hope she wouldn’t look too deeply at the rest. 

“Mathias,” Pathonia said, as she set the folder down on the desk and tapped her ringed fingers against it, “I trust you know what the punishments are for lying?” She looked him directly in the eye, searching for any sign of deception. “If I find out that you are lying to me, I will make sure that the full weight will come down on you, do you understand?”

Mathias nodded. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he swallowed around it before responding. “With all due respect, Spymaster, what reason do I have to lie? I have nothing to gain from that. If I wanted to lie, I wouldn’t have said I was caught off guard.” 

Pathonia opened the report folder, and stabbed a finger at a paragraph she’d marked earlier with a paperclip. Mathias’ usually perfectly written report was a scrawl of chicken scratch, smudges, and ink blotches. It was a wonder that Pathonia could actually read the left handed wobbles, but unfortunately for Mathias she could, and she wasn’t known for her compassion. 

“ _I headed upstairs, but neglected to check the stock room for assailants_ ,” Pathonia read aloud, “ _while fighting two smugglers in the upper hallway I was grabbed from behind and disarmed. I dislocated my shoulder as I misjudged the angle to break free_.” 

_Technically_ it wasn’t a lie. It had happened that way, for the most part. 

“Yes, that’s what happened...” 

Pathonia slammed the report shut, cutting him off, “I do not believe you. Of all my agents, _you_ are the only one who never makes stupid mistakes. If anything, your vigilant and fastidious nature makes you too cautious. You are a perfectionist and over-critical, Mathias, and this report reads like it’s from one of my lower ranked agents, not my best, my _successor_.” 

“It was my first solo mission, Spymaster.” Mathias countered, meeting her anger with a calmness that surprised even himself. His own anger burned red hot inside him. All his life he’d struggled to earn her pride, and even his best wasn’t good enough. “I was alone and outnumbered. I was worried I might compromise the mission, and I acted on instinct. I made an error in judgement, and I learnt from it. Next time I will be more careful.” 

“Next time you might be dead!”

Mathias recoiled. Little did she know how close to death he had been. His nightmares wore a face now, handsome, and covered in blood. 

“I am sorry, Pathonia.” Not sorry for nearly dying, only sorry that the truth felt more like a lie than his story.

“Get out of my sight, Mathias. Have your medical clearance sent to me before you come back. I don’t want to see you again until you are fit for work.”

Mathias opened his mouth, and immediately closed it. He knew a losing battle when he saw one, and left without saying another word. The wooden stairs creaked loudly underfoot as he stomped down, his feet as heavy as his heart. 

Waltion, another SI:7 agent, was waiting for him outside, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the fence and tried to look nonchalant. 

“Not you too,” Mathias sighed as he tried to pass.

“Stupid way to get injured. Pathonia is pissed.” 

“I am aware,” Mathias replied flatly, “I’ve just had her tear me a new one, I don’t need it from you too.” 

Waltion took his arm gently, “Don’t take it personally, Kid. She’s worried about you, and she shows it in the only way she knows how. Unfortunately for everyone it’s a very...Pathonia way.” 

“I know,” Mathias sighed heavily, “I made a stupid mistake, and she’s right. I could have died.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, and hopefully you learnt your lesson. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch,” Waltion smiled playfully, “I have some fresh Stormwind gossip to cheer you up...” 

Despite himself, Shaw found himself smiling as he nodded.

\------------------

“And Lady _Hardleigh_ is seeing Lord Arden’s son.” 

Mathias choked on a mouthful of apple pie, and had to slap himself hard on the chest as he tried to swallow. “But he’s half her age!”

Waltion laughed, “I know and it’s _fascinating_ to watch. I am certain Lord Arden thinks she’s interested in him. She’s always quick to ask if she’ll be invited to one of his lavish parties.” 

“The only one interested in Lady Hardleigh is death, and he’s just watching the clock.” 

“Mathias,” Waltion scolded through a laugh, “you can’t say that! She’s not _that_ old.”

“I’m not saying that she’s old, I’m talking about the dagger to the back she’ll take if she keeps playing all those men. How many is it now, five?”

Waltion shook his head and took a drink of iced orange juice, “Six. Seven if you count Lord Tassel, but I’m sure that one is over already.” 

“So much drama up at the Keep,” Mathias mused, and took a drink of water to clear his throat, “How are the King and Queen?”

“They’re fine, very happy. Excited, like expectant parents usually are. There’s not much anxiousness for the arrival, I think they’re both just enjoying each other, which is nice.”

“I’m happy for them. I’m sure their child will be well loved, whatever it happens to be.” Mathias took another bite of pie to mask the bitter taste in his mouth. How stupid to be jealous of a baby that hadn’t even been born yet. Still, growing up without his own parents was a wound that hadn’t healed. Pathonia was the only family he had now, and she’d never been the maternal loving sort. As a child, when he hurt himself, there were no hugs and soothing words. Even at five years old he’d been expected to take the pain without a sound.

Waltion didn’t miss Mathias’ subtle change in body language, but knew there were no words to mend that particular wound. “I am sure they will, and we will all get to enjoy a huge celebration when it happens.” 

“Well some of us will, I am sure my punishment for being careless will be to work through the event.” 

“It’s three or four months away yet, I doubt she’ll still be angry by then.” 

Mathias shot the older man a look that said more than words could convey. Chances were she wouldn’t be mad at this, but something else. There was always something he’d done wrong in her eyes. 

“I’ll talk to her, if you like. You know how she is,” Waltion gently offered, “she’s angry now, but tomorrow she’ll have simmered down enough to assess the situation properly.” 

“Yeah,” Mathias said as used his fork to absentmindedly pick at the pie crust, “have you seen Edwin?”

“Kid,” Waltion’s voice was gentle, but the rebuke was there, “you need to let this one go. He picked his side, and you need to do the same. Even if he wasn’t fighting for his guild, Pathonia would never have him back. He’s always been hot-headed and prone to following his heart over his brain.” 

Mathias was quiet. Edwin was his best friend, his only friend, really. Mathias missed him and his sharp tongued quips every day. He didn’t want to let Edwin go, didn’t want to lose the only good thing he’d had in his life for the sake of ‘duty’. Without Edwin, he truly was alone, and without support. 

“Friendships come and go, Mat. It hurts now, but duty comes first. Perhaps, when everything dies down, you can still be friends outside of SI:7.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” but deep down Mathias knew that wasn’t going to happen. Edwin considered himself abandoned to what he believed was a just cause, and the worst part of it was that Mathias agreed. 

Waltion changed the subject, tried to keep the conversation of the Keep’s drama light in tone, but Mathias paid no attention. His heart ached for his friend. Alone at night, he always wondered if they could have been more, but now he’d never have an answer, and Edwin would never speak to him again.

“When’s your next visit to the healers?” 

“In three days, but they think it’ll be longer until I can use the arm again. Could be months before I get medical clearance.” 

“They’ll see you right,” Waltion promised, “I’ve seen them work miracles.” 

Mathias nodded, but deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he half hoped his injury would force his retirement from SI:7. 

They spoke for another twenty minutes, mostly about Waltion’s war wounds, which unsurprisingly didn’t make Mathias feel any better. When Waltion finally left for a meeting with Pathonia, Mathias was left emotionally raw and exhausted. 

\----------

Stormwind’s streets were packed full of people, market stalls and vendors, couriers, shoppers and runners, all milling together noisily. Mathias had promised to go home and get some rest, a promise he had no intentions of following through. There was something he wanted to do first.

The Library was a vast, multi-level building of white stone and stained glass windows, much like the cathedral. It was truly beautiful. Mathias thought of Edwin and the other stonemasons until his heart ached anew. 

The main hall, filled with long wooden tables warmed by the sun, was quiet and empty save a few mages referencing magical tomes. Mathias headed past them in his quest for research of his own. He found a quiet, secluded corner where he wouldn’t be disturbed, and carried over every book he could find that mentioned San’layn. He flipped open a tome, and began to read. 

_A Compendium of Mythical Creatures: Volume Two_ \- ‘The San’layn is a creature of folklore that feeds on the vital essence of humans, usually in the form of blood. They are undead creatures with no soul, no conscience and no emotion, their only driving force is their endless hunger for life. Ruled over by a Blood Queen, they are described as being walking corpses with grey skin and red eyes.’

 _Night Terrors: Lordaeron Horror Stories_ \- ‘Beware, weary traveler, of the forgotten roads to Lordaeron, with dark night comes death riding her pale steed. It is not gold or jewels she seeks but the very life force of her prey, the thick rich blood that keeps her corpse alive. A skilled huntress, who brings death to you before you even see her coming.’

 _Myths and Legends of the Eastern Kingdoms_ \- ‘More popular to the north, these evil mythological beings roam the darkness as they search for human blood to feed upon. They are always characterized as blood thirsty and typically use sharp fangs to drain their victims, killing them and raising them as their own. In general, they are strictly nocturnal as sunlight weakens (and sometimes kills) them. Some stories have these creatures able to turn into bats, cast no shadow, and have no reflection. They are always depicted as having super strength and speed, although newer stories mention hypnotic and sensual powers to control their victims.’ 

_San’layn, A Case Study_ \- ‘In the summer of 585, a series of murders occurred with no explanation. Twelve bodies were found in the small village of Riverside to the far south of Lordaeron. Three weeks later in the town of Newhaven, 150 miles southeast of Riverside, six more bodies bearing the same strange markings. All bore the same bite marks to the neck, and no blood was found at the scene. Investigators claimed it was the work of a serial killer, and arrested a man known locally as the San’layn Prince. Now with witness statements and interviews, this case study deep dives into those murders.’

 _Nocturnal Nightmares_ \- ‘The San’layn, led by a fearsome Blood Queen, are said to hunt the lands between Quel’thalas and Arathi Highlands. There are many varying stories about these blood sucking monsters, ranging from them being mindless undead who know nothing but hunger, to intelligent monsters who look, and act, like normal humans.’

 _San’layn; Fact or Fiction?_ \- ‘San’layn superstitions thrive even today, but were taken far more seriously a few hundred years ago. As plagues decimated entire towns, leaving bleeding lesions on the skin, the San’layn curse found its feet in popular culture. Plague victims were often beheaded before being buried to stop them rising as san’layn.’

Mathias made pages of notes, organised, as neat as he could make them using his non-dominant arm, into common and uncommon tropes, highlighting each one that applied to what he’d seen. The end result was a rainbow of colourful lines over the parchment.

While Mathias could see that there were similarities between the stories and the entity he had encountered, he could also see many differences. In all the stories, the San’layn were almost always beautiful women (often elves), cursed for their looks to spend an eternity killing to stay attractive, and trapped in the world of the living. The san’layn he’d met was, indisputably, male. 

An endless insatiable hunger? No to that too. If that had been the case, Mathias would be dead. Instead, the entity had toyed with and teased him, like a cat with a mouse hunting for sport rather than necessity.

A mindless undead with no emotions or intelligence? Again, that was a solid no. What he’d met had had a reason for being there. As he’d said ‘his business was his own’ implying a higher intelligence. The creature had been smart, capable and easily amused by Mathias’ antics. 

Mathias tapped his pencil against his notepad and sighed heavily. He was no closer to finding the truth than he had been when he’d started. There _were_ grains of truth in the stories, but nothing substantial. Even the San’layn murders were the work of a delusional mad-man, living in the fantasy of being a supernatural entity. Nothing he had read came close to suggesting that the San’layn actually existed, although Mathias would swear on his life that what he had met had been the real thing. 

His arm ached in the sling, and his left wrist - unaccustomed to having to write so much - burned painfully, cracking with each small movement. And to top it all off, he now had a headache too. Mathias set his pencil down and leaned back in his chair as his stomach rumbled loudly in the silence. He was surprised to see the night sky through the stained glass windows when he looked up, at most he’d thought it was dusk. At some point he’d missed the librarians walking around to light the enchanted lamps, some hyper-vigilant spy he was shaping up to be. 

Mathias sighed heavily and ran a hand through his loose hair, he hated the way it hung around his face, but couldn’t tie it up one handed. He would have cut it short long ago if he wasn’t still trying to be a normal young man, following the current fashion of a long ponytail. It wasn’t very practical, but it was the one thing Pathonia couldn’t control without rewriting the SI:7 rule-book. 

He stood and made a move for the door. Then stopped, turned around and picked up the pile of books he had been reading, and carefully placed all the books back on the correct shelves. No one needed to know that the future Spymaster was reading children’s stories for information on something that shouldn’t exist. 

Mathias was thankful that the streets were almost empty as he headed home, stopping only at the bakery to buy some sweet buns for dinner. He spent the evening at the table in his small apartment, as he meticulously jotted down every detail of the encounter while it was still fresh enough in his mind. The five minute interaction became ten pages of notes, illustrated with a few terribly drawn sketches. 

Despite knowing the truth, Mathias didn’t want to believe he’d actually met a creature of myth, and did his best to rationalize it. He’d been stressed, scared, and running on adrenaline. Any one of those could explain away his brain hallucinating things that weren't there. 

Each aspect of the entity... no, Mathias frowned at himself, not an entity, a man, was easy enough to explain. 

The way the creature shifted in and out of the shadows? A Shadow priest in shadow form. Granted it didn’t explain why the creature hadn’t been purple all over, but it was a passable take.

The spontaneous teleportation around the hallway? A mage blinking. 

The unnatural feeling of something being ‘off’, and the sickly aura of death? Necromancer. 

The distorted voice? Poor guy probably had a cold. 

The supernatural strength? Definitely not supernatural, he was just... naturally strong, perhaps held a manual job. 

Mathias groaned and dropped his forehead to the table with a bang. If nothing else he’d met the first weightlifting shadow-mage with a side interest in necromancy who had a sore throat. 

Deep down, Mathias knew the truth and somehow that was worse. San’layn were real. 

\---------------------

Early morning saw Mathias heading to his favourite shop, the same one he’d been visiting ever since he was a small child, with only pocket money to his name. The sweet, musky scent of old books filled the air as he entered. Mathias allowed himself a small smile as he took a deep breath in, immediately feeling at ease. The shopkeeper, Tabitha, greeted him warmly from the counter, her white hair pulled into a bun that held an assortment of writing implements. 

In another life, Tabitha would have been his grandmother. From the age of seven, when he’d first found her shop and walked in with wonder in his eyes, it was Tabitha who had been the loving parental figure in his life. It was under her care that he learnt what it felt like to be a child, scoffing down homemade cookies, and listening to her fictitious tales of heroes and monsters. She had always been the grandmother he wished he had, the one who cuddled him and told him it was ok to be scared, and that it was ok to fail sometimes. Tabitha would have nurtured his love of books, and allowed him to become the rare book collector and restorer that he yearned to be. 

That would have been a happy life. A better life. 

“What can I do for my favourite customer?” 

Mathias smiled, “I’m looking for something special. A gift for someone who is currently obsessed with the San’layn, do you have anything?”

“Hm, possibly,” Tabitha replied, as she tapped her fingers to her cheek, “Try over by the window, there are a few old horror books there. I’ve got a few books set aside for you too, I thought to myself that you might like to see them, the next time you came by.” 

Mathias grinned, “Thank you!”

He left the shop two hours later, stomach full, and a bag of books clutched to his chest. Pathonia had always called his love of books a waste of time, but Mathias collected them anyway, it was the one luxury he allowed himself. Historical leather bound texts, and diaries of soldiers long since dead. Through their words they still lived and Mathias found the thought beautiful. 

Through Tabitha, he had learnt how to restore the oldest, and most worn books, giving them a new life on his bookcase, where they would exist long after he died. It was a passion for him, a way to physically grasp the past, to listen to the words of people who had experienced history first hand. 

But, unfortunately for him there was nothing new to be found in his books, and he had to finally concede that he wasn’t getting anywhere. 

\---------------

Sometimes, the information Mathias’ contacts brought him was gold, other times….well they couldn’t always be right. 

A week ago, he had sent news out to his web of contacts, that he was offering gold for any useful information on san’layn. It wasn’t a direction he wanted to take his investigation, but after exhausting every book, he felt had no other options. Using his contacts all but guaranteed Pathonia would find out, but Mathias was ready for her, and planned to spin a tale that he’d been bored and was following up on a ‘cult’. 

It wasn’t far from the truth, he _was_ bored. Incredibly bored.

News came to him in the afternoon while he was running a few errands in the market. The man handed over a slip of paper containing an address, his eyes darting around as he spoke, and told Mathias of a san’layn cult looking for new victims. Mathias handed over the twenty-three gold and pocketed the paper for later. Usually he wouldn’t pay until after he’d followed up, but this wasn’t a case he wanted people sticking around for. Not even for a second did he think it was real, but with leads so thin, he took what he could get. 

The moment he was home, he dragged out a map of Stormwind and found the address. Whatever hope he’d had that the information was real died immediately. The address was a bar in a busy area, far too busy for an actual san’layn with victims to go unnoticed. Still, like a good spy, he’d check it out, but didn’t hope for much. 

The meeting place turned out not to be the bar itself, but the basement, rented out three days a week to a few ‘ridiculous teens’ who paid well. It was accessed through the delivery entrance outside. The barkeep waved a dismissive hand in Mathias’ face, and sent him away with a grumble, ‘ _weirdest kids in Stormwind if you ask me_ ’. 

Mathias hated it all. Hated not only the stupidly stereotypical name of ‘The Blood Rose’, but also hated that he had embarrassed himself in front of many people, who all looked at him like he was insane for asking about a san’layn cult. 

The stairs creaked as Mathias headed down into the darkness, filled with men and women dressed in the garb of three hundred years past. What little light there was came from long, spindly candles stuck into filigree sconces, every few feet along the walls. They barely illuminated the cramped space, and it was too dark to make out specifics, but Mathias could see that there was velvet _everywhere_. It hung from the ceiling, covered the walls, and draped over every item of furniture. It made the room hot and damp, and the fabric hanging so close to the open flames made Mathias very nervous. Ever the killjoy, the only thought that filled Mathias’ head was that the basement was over capacity, a fire hazard on every level, and probably breaking fifteen different building regulations. 

His boots stuck to the floor with every step, and he didn’t want to entertain the thought of what fluids could have been spilled to cause such an abhorrent sound as he peeled his feet free from the floorboards. Along with the sticky sounds, there was discordant music playing, a tinny, scratching sound that made his ears ache. It was coming from an ancient gramophone in the corner, it’s brass horn having seen better days.

The stench of old, stale beer was thick in the air, which was filled with a smoky haze. It mingled unpleasantly with the unmistakable smells of sweat and teenage desperation, and Mathias wondered to himself just what sort of place he had walked into.

There wasn’t one person in the room who wasn’t wearing black, though there were splashes of crimson and wine red amongst the monotone sea of writhing bodies. Some were wrapped in lace and ruffles, others in sleek silks and satins, and a few in very little clothing at all. Mathias stuck out like a sore thumb in his simple (and modern) outfit of a white shirt and black dress pants. “Fresh blood!” Someone shouted from the darkness, and all eyes turned to him.

He didn’t say anything, his mind refusing to believe this was a situation he was actually in. Not one person looked to be older than their mid-twenties, so at least Mathias fit in age. He stood, awkwardly glancing around, unsure of what to say or do, until two women wrapped themselves around him. They were both dressed in so many layers that they rustled as they moved, and their voluminous skirts swallowed his lower half in fabric. They dragged him over to the bar, where he was offered a large silver goblet of liquid that looked like red wine, and smelled like vinegar. “Blood,” One of the women told him. Politely, he refused. 

“White is a dangerous colour to wear here, the blood stains never come out,” the taller woman whispered into Mathias’ ear. Her breath made him shiver, and not in a pleasant way. “Unless that’s your thing of course. Do you like to see the blood seep into the cloth?”

Mathias thought of all the times he’d seen people bleed to death. The vinegar-drink would probably taste better than the bile currently rising in his throat. “No, I absolutely don’t. Look I’m just here for some information, and I was told this was where I would find it.” He tried to pull his left arm free of the taller woman’s cleavage, but she wasn’t letting him go so easily. 

“Information?”

“Yes, on san’layn.” 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” The tall woman said, in a thick, faked, Lordaeron accent. She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, “I am Blood Queen Thanelle, and this,” she gestured to her friend, “is Blood Princess Aviane, my childe. I made her two hundred and fifty years ago.” He froze as her long fingernails traced a line up his chest, “You’re in luck, we’re always looking for a third to play with, aren’t we, Avi?”

Shaw’s bicep was now nestled so deeply between Thanelle’s breasts, he could feel the hammer of her heart. “I am sorry,” he said, once again trying to escape her grip, “but I am not looking to be anyone’s third.” Or second, or first for that matter.

Aviane pouted. The expression would be ridiculous on a child, but was made even worse by the fact that she looked to be older than Mathias. “Are we not your type?” She whined, using the same fake accented drawl as her companion.

They most definitely were not, but Mathias tried to let them down gently. “Thank you for the offer but, ah, no. This isn’t really what I had in mind.” Light help him, he needed an escape. 

“Now, now, Thanelle, what have I told you about putting your nose where it isn’t wanted?” A new, deep voice asked. 

Thanelle looked annoyed at the interruption, but whatever was going on here, she daren’t argue with the man who had come to Mathias’ rescue. “Come along, Avi,” she finally dropped Mathias’ arm, as well as the ridiculous accent, “I believe our time is better spent with Dallon tonight.” 

Mathias hissed in pain as the two women stormed away, pushing past him with no care for his injured arm. Frustrated that their new plaything had been stolen, they crawled away into the shadows to nurse their wounded egos. Dallon didn’t look annoyed to have their company, openly inviting them to suck purple bruises on his ‘victim’s’ neck. 

“Quite the injury you’ve got there,” The mysterious rescuer said. 

Mathias rubbed his sore shoulder and mentally cursed the two women. “Yeah,” he said in the most deadpan tone he could muster, “I got it fighting a san’layn.”

The other man laughed deeply, “Hmm, ‘fighting’ eh? That’s what they all say.” And he winked.

Mathias couldn’t dignify that with a response, at least not one he wouldn’t regret when he was home alone, painfully reliving this moment. The other man was handsome, with dark features, dark hair, and a perfectly sculpted beard that Mathias thought too flawless to have been done without a mirror, and therefore, a reflection. 

The man leaned in close, and took Mathias’ hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that turned Mathias’ insides to ice as he fought the urge to cringe away. “Forgive my clan, they are young and impulsive.” 

Mathias was too shocked to react, partly he wanted to curl up and die, but the majority of his instincts just told him to run. “Where are my manners? I am Blood King Hectyr. Thanelle is not my queen, although she likes to imagine that she is. I have much more...selective tastes,” He looked Mathias up and down slowly, as if undressing him mentally, “and you are quite the visual feast. What’s your name?”

Light, if he hadn’t wanted to die before, he certainly did now. “Althar,” Mathias lied, praising his brain for not throwing out his own name, or jumping to the first name he thought of (which happened to be Varian). 

“Althar,” Hectyr rolled the name like a fine wine on his tongue, “the pleasure is all mine. So you’re a new face here, are you San’layn or victim?” 

“W-what?” Mathias stuttered. 

“I, for one, am certainly hoping you want to be a victim,” Hectyr laughed, and Mathias hated that he would have thought the man attractive, if he wasn’t the human personification of a nutty fruit cake. “Oh, you are very fresh,” Hectyr purred, leering at Mathias and sliding an arm around his waist, “let me rephrase the question for mortal ears, do you fuck or get fucked?” 

Mathias’ heart froze, and threatened to crawl out of his chest. “What?” He squeaked out. 

Hectyr leaned in uncomfortably close, and pressed his lips against Mathias ear to whisper, “Do you not know the type of establishment you so willingly walked into?” 

Light but he didn’t, he thought he had, but a quick look over to Dallon with Thanelle’s legs over his shoulders confirmed his worst fears. On a table no less, unsanitary _and_ disgusting. The arm around Mathias’ waist tightened, taking his silence as a ‘yes’, and he felt the other man’s hand make a slow journey from his knee, over hard thigh, to squeeze at his crotch suggestively.

Mathias shot back with such force he may as well have been shot from a cannon. Up until that point he had grit his teeth and bore the horror, for the hope of a crumb of actual help, but he’d reached his limit. The next time he saw the runner who had sent him to a fetish-cum-sex club, he’d kill them. 

“I, uhhh...sorry...very sorry. I was informed that this was... something else, and it’s exactly very much _not_ what I was looking for.” He backed away towards the exit as quickly as he could, bumping into every person on his way. “Very sorry.” 

Mathias turned, bolted up the stairs, and prayed to every god he could think of that he would never see any of those people again. Hectyr watched him leave with a mix of anger at being led on and annoyance his new toy had left so rudely. 

Mathias sprinted down the streets and didn’t stop until he could see his apartment. 

Panting for breath, and cold to his core, Mathias slammed his front door shut and leaned against it. That was it, he decided, that was the end of his research and he was following no more leads. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. The san’layn he’d met could stay a mystery.

Staggering away from the door, Mathias poured himself a large glass of whisky from his secret stash under the sink and sat with it at the table like it was his only friend. And right now it certainly felt that way.

Twice now he’d run from San’layn, although he’d gladly run from the first again, if it meant forgetting every second of the past two hours. The first had mentally scarred him less.


	3. Fatal Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to @trollsweat for working their ass off so I could get this up for Halloween

With his medical clearance in hand, Mathias made his way from the Mage District towards Old Town. His feet dragged against the smooth cobble stones, each step as heavy as his heart. There was no lasting damage to his shoulder, good news  which  should have brought him some comfort, but it didn’t. After tasting freedom for nearly a month, he felt  somewhat at peace with himself, able to wash his hands and see past the  memories of blood that stained them. 

Mathias knew Stormwind like the back of his hand; every hidden alley, every dead-end and twisting turn. He could traverse it’s streets blindfolded and, even deep in thought, he made no mistakes on the path to his destination. Much like how he followed the life path set out for him by Pathonia. All roads, physical and metaphorical, led him back to SI:7, and the life he resented .

The thin letter felt unbearably heavy in his hand, and Mathias’ shoulders sagged under the pressure, like a titan carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Mathias too was crippled under the burden of responsibility, that he had no choice but to bear. The letter was nothing more than a glorified permission slip to kill, to spill more blood in the name of the crown. 

Word evidently traveled fast ; barely an hour had passed since Mathias’ medical  examination  had ended , and Pathonia was  already pacing impatiently, waiting for her grandson t o arrive .  She turned to him as he entered, her bejeweled hand outstretched over her tidy desk to take the letter, “ Ah , Mathias, come in.  Your clearance, I presume?” She gestured to the parchment in his hands, “Give it to me, I will file it in your record .” 

Mathias handed the envelope over without a word. Pathonia’s office felt stuffy and restrictive, uninviting compared to the bright summer’s day outside. With every word Pathonia read, Mathias’ hopes of ever being free slipped through his fingers.

“It’s good that you aren’t permanently injured, and I hope that this serves as a valuable lesson.” Pathonia slipped the letter into the folder marked ‘Agent 113’ and secured it with a paperclip. “I had a  fitting mission for your skillset last week,  such a shame  that you were...indisposed.” 

Mathias answered with a curt nod. He struggled to feel  upset at being ‘indisposed’ for anything regarding SI:7.

Pathonia wasn’t phased. With Edwin at the heart of the trouble-making  within the Stonemason’s guild, Pathonia didn’t want her grandson in the city, too afraid that he’d follow his heart to the man he’d once called a student,  a friend . “I have another  task for you.  It is simple, but one  I -  _ we _ \- need completed.” She stood  with  her back to Mathias while she flicked through the folders of active cases, kept on a shelf behind her desk .  She paused, her hand hovering for a moment, before pulling down a red file. 

Mathias reached for it instinctively, and flicked open the cover  as soon as it was in his hand . As if his heart wasn’t aching enough, it sank further when he read the details. “This is in the Swamp of Sorrows?” 

Pathonia grunted  in the a ffirmative , and took her seat . “Winson Terris, a necromancer of Duskwood origin. I sent Revil and Ollin to deal with him a week ago, but they failed, and Terris spooked . He ran and now he’s  somewhere in the Swamp, seeking safe passage North. Your file contains everything we know about him, his movements and his skill set, so make sure you study it thoroughly. He is a dangerous man, Mathias, do not underestimate him.”

Mathias nodded, his mind already working through the problem and how to achieve his goal .  “I’ll make a plan and leave tonight.” 

“Good,” Pathonia replied, picking up her quill and going back to her work, “have it on my desk by sunset, I want to check it before you leave.” 

“Of course, Spymaster,” Mathias replied and turned to leave. 

“Mathias,” Pathonia’s voice was soft, the usual hard bark missing, “ It’s good to have you back .”

Mathias just nodded and offered a quiet, ‘me too’ that he hoped didn’t sound as fake as it felt. The lie tasted like ash on his tongue, bitter and dry. He felt as though he were being dragged, kicking and screaming, away from the life he wanted, and onto a ruinous, crumbling path before him.

H e returned to headquarters some time later, mission plan in hand. Pale red light spilled into the Spymaster’s office, through the small window behind the desk. In the early evening light, Pathonia’s expression looked warm, and she seemed almost approachable when bathed in the soft glow of th e setting sun . Mathias watched her as she read his plan, and wondered if she felt anything for him beyond what he could offer her and the Shaw name. She was proud of  _ what _ he was, Mathias was certain, but beyond it, was she proud of  _ who _ he was?

Probably not. 

His thoughts  drifted to his mother, and the few memories he had of her. Like a faded photograph, or water damaged book left to r ot in the rain , the memories were faded, whispers of ghosts, so fragile that grasping them roughly  might  destroy them for good. Barely more than dreams, his memories were intangible, and slipped through his fingers faster than he could hold them. His mother was a stranger, just like his father, remembered only in name and the fact that Mathias had been born. Would they have been proud of him had they lived? Would they have ever wanted him on this path? It seemed strange to Mathias that any parent would put their child in a danger. But, then again, Pathonia had done just that, training Mathias even after losing her own daughter. 

Perhaps his entire family was just cursed.

“ Very good,” Pathonia finally said, pulling Mathias from his depressing thoughts, “concise and  thoroughly  planned. You have my approval.” 

“Thank you, Spymaster.”

Mathias collected his supply bag and left his grandmother’s  office with a brief farewel l . He made his way straight to SI:7’s private aviary, where his gryphon was stabled. 

Shrike ruffled her dark feathers when he approached, visibly unhappy with the intrusion at what she considered sleeping time, but greedily eyed the fresh rabbit Mathias had brought as a bribe. He tossed it to her and grabbed her saddle,  while she  threw her head back,  swallowing  the  rabbit  whole.  Not ten minutes later, they were soaring over Elwynn forest in the last of the  dying  light. 

\---------------------------------

The Swamp of Sorrows lived up to its name in every miserable way possible. A thick miasma hung li ke a rolling fog  in the fetid air, and it sprawled out over the dense, marshy vegetation in plumes of white. The path, precarious at best  ( and submerged at worst ) , was a struggle to  traverse, and almost impossible t o navigate, obscured by the  low hanging clouds . The air was foul in Mathias’ lungs.  Wit h each careful footstep he took, methane bubbled up through the disturbed layer to add  more putrid smells to the already rotten atmosphere. 

Tracking was slow, but Mathias couldn’t have moved faster if he wanted to. Each footstep into the sticky mud  threatened to pull his boots from his feet, and  was followed by a loud ‘ _ schlorp’  _ as he broke free.  Soaked to  his skin, from both swamp  water a nd sweat, the miserable mission felt more like punishment than anything else. 

On any other terrain, he would have already found his mark, dispatched them, and be heading home. Here in the swamp, a living hellhole if ever there was one, his job was far harder and far,  _ far _ worse. Mathias found traces of camp sites , fresh enough for him to be certain it was Terris, then  stumbled across an abandoned hut, and a cave filled with dead murlocs. All signs pointed to Terris heading east towards the coast, not unexpected if he truly was looking for a ship to take him north. 

The swamp was so unforgiving that, not for the first time, Mathias regretted leaving Shrike at the human outpost in Redridge. Her dark, ebony feathers made her an ideal  steed i n the night skies,  able to avoid detection. Her size, however, put her at a disadvantage c loser to the ground, where the  densely packed trees became a problem for her wings. 

Mathias made it to the coast in only two days, a record in his books, although it threw his careful plans so far off schedule, he would be lucky if Winston Terris wasn’t  already  long gone. “If I have suffered this  _ disgusting _ swamp only to miss the target…” Mathias growled to himself, his bad mood plunging ever deeper.

At least the air was clearer in the sea breeze o f the coast , no longer clogging his lungs, but still smelling strongly of rot and decay. Mathias leaned heavily against a gnarled tree, his body aching with exhaustion . H e thought of his comfortable bed and his warm little apartment, and angrily kicked a rock, sending it flying over the water to land with a splash. It didn’t make him feel any better.

Several turtles, part submerged in the water, looked up at him with beady eyes, as if judging his little display. Mathias kicked a rock in their direction too, and stormed on.

The moment that Mathias saw the small hut, he knew he wasn’t alone. The same chills ran up his spine as they had at the farmhouse, the hair on his neck standing up as a chill - not caused by the swamp - bit at his bones.

How he knew, Mathias wasn’t sure, but he was certain Terris was dead, and  that the monster that had killed him was still inside. How easy it would be to leave now and never look back ? T o go back to Pathonia and  just  say the mission had been successful. But he couldn’t, he’d never forgive himself for it. He needed visual proof. Even if the chances of Terris ever walking back into th eir radar to reveal his lie, we re minimal at best. 

Under the crack of the door, Mathias could see the warm red glow of a fire burning strong in the fireplace. The wood was warm under his  touch as he reached for the door, one hand on his blade ready to fight if his instincts were wrong.  The door was stiff, a nd took a strong jerk to open, revealing a single room, and a lone figure sitting in a chair  by the fire. 

“You still taste of fear,” the creature drawled without looking up, his nose wrinkling in distaste of everything else Mathias smelt of, “I can smell it over your swamp stench.” 

The creature looked comfortable and relaxed, reading from a book next to the open fireplace. The corpse of the previous occupant - Winston Terris - now serving as a footrest for his heavy boots. 

“Do you have _ any _ respect for the living?” Mathias asked without thinking, his brain - caught in his foul mood - missed the memo where he didn’t piss off an undead san’layn. The corpse of Terris stared blankly in Mathias’ direction, white face frozen in a moment of wide eyed terror. 

The entity laughed and looked up, “Not at all. The living are weak, like children in need of protection. Or cattle to be herded.”

Mathias was disgusted. Logically he knew he should have expected an evil killing monster to say that, but it still didn’t feel right to hear. To have his people,  _ his city _ , described as cattle was abhorrent!

The other man simply laughed. “Sit, put your feet up. Dry yourself by the fire, and I’ll endure your rancid stench for now.” 

Mathias didn’t move, his heart raced in his chest. Some treacherous part of himself was drawn to the creature, like a moth to a flame, only unlike the simple moth, he could see death coming if he stepped too close. 

“Are we so different, you and I? You protect _your_ city, _your_ people, as if they need it in the first place.” 

“They do,” Mathias argued. “They’re civilians, and it’s my duty to protect them from danger and… this. They don’t need to know of the darkness that surrounds them.” Let them remain ignorant and naive. It was a blessing, one that Mathias wished he had himself. 

“Ha!  You don’t know of the darkness that surrounds you, little spy, not truly.” He waved a dismissive hand to the room, readjusted his feet on his ‘stool’. “You’re as blind as they are. More so really, as we’ve already met once before, and now you’ve seen  that the myths hold a grain of truth.” 

Mathias frowned and tried to ignore the ill feeling as the monster kicked at the corpse in front of him. But, in the end, he crossed the room to sit opposite the san’layn, denying the request to ‘put his feet up’, as he regarded the creature in front of him. “So, if ‘you are to me what I am to them’… You’re, what? My protector?”

“Yours? No, don’t be foolish. I am no one's protector and to call me such would be a lie. You’ve already asked if I value human life, and my answer hasn’t changed. A single life is worthless.” 

“But many lives are not?” Mathias ventured. 

Nathanos smiled, the gesture gentle, like a parent patiently explaining a difficult topic to a child, and watching as they slowly grasped it. “If I said to you that I would kill twenty random people in Stormwind, or your King, and gave you the option to pick which, what would you choose?”

Mathias’ blood ran cold, “I would not.” 

“Then I would kill all of them.” 

“Are you going to?” Mathias panicked, his voice quavering, “Is that what this is? You’re going to drag me into your depraved games and make me choose between lives? All lives matter to me, stableboy or king they are all worth saving. I will not choose!”

The creature tapped Mathias’ heartbeat out on the smooth wooden armrest, fast and too close to a panic attack. The air tasted thick with fear, and  the creature licked his lips. “While that does sound  _ incredibly _ fun, no. I am asking you hypothetically to tell me, would you save twenty at the cost of one, or one at the cost of twenty?”

“The majority obviously.” Varian knew the costs of leadership, the civilians did not. 

“Why?”

“Because twenty lives is-” Oh. The question clicked in Mathias’ mind, like a puzzle with the pieces coming together. 

“One life is worthless compared to twenty?” The creature finished for him. 

“No life is worthless,” Mathias countered irritably, “but I see your point.” 

The creature chuckled, flashing his long fangs at Mathias. “You understand so little and presume to know so much. How many lives is one life worth? Ten? Five? Two? If I gave you that same question, and said I’d kill two or your king, would your answer be the same?” 

“I…” Mathias couldn’t answer, where was his line? Was the King, the figurehead for humans, worth keeping alive at the cost of two random lives? Mathias found himself sickened by the thought that yes, he would kill two civilians for Varian’s safety. But three? Five? Where was his line? 

The creature almost looked sympathetic as he remembered his own mortal life, many years ago, when he’d been innocent and naive. “You see, little spy, my point is one you can’t grasp...yet, but perhaps one day you will.” 

“Why me? Why are you helping me if I am meaningless?” 

“Helping you? No, spy. Do not  mistake this for an act of kindness. What I teach you comes with a price you don’t yet see.” The creature stood with a grace belied by his size,  and in the blink of an eye he was leaning over Mathias, “as for why you, one day I may answer that, but that day is not today. I’ve killed your mark and I’ll leave you to dispose of the body, I’d love to stay and chat more but you really do smell repulsive.” 

The creature strode  to open the door and paused, “do check his pockets before you burn him - and you will burn him - there’s a journal I am sure will be of interest to your people.” 

Mathias nodded, “I will burn him.” 

The creature was gone in the blink of an eye and Mathias was left thinking of the books he’d read in the library, remembering vividly how anyone suspected of being a san’layn was burned before they could rise. The urge to stay by the warm fire evaporated quickly after that, he didn’t rate his chances very highly at surviving an attack from even a freshly turned San’layn. 

Eager to get away as fast as possible, Mathias searched the corpse’s pockets, and shoved the journal into his pack. Burning the corpse was far easier with a giant fire already lit. 

\----------------------

The first thing Mathias did when he got back to Stormwind was shower. Repeatedly. 

The stench was gone, or at least masked by Mageroyal and Peacebloom scented soap, as he left his apartment to drop off his report, and the journal, with Pathonia. While she read it t hrough, he headed out to an early lunch with Waltion. 

“You look happier than you have in a while,” Waltion commented over the roasted meat platter, “I’m glad for it.” 

Mathias paused, a fork of roast pork paused mid air, “I do?”

The older man nodded, “I  think I  actually saw a smile earlier.” 

“I’m just glad to be home,” Mathias lied, and finally took the bite on his fork. The succulent meat melted in his mouth,  and  he considered the reasons he was feeling more himself. He was happier, he couldn’t deny that much, although that probably wasn’t the usual  reaction to being the plaything of a san’layn. Something drew him towards the creature though, a feeling he couldn’t understand. A need maybe ? A deep desire to meet him again, and see just what he could be taught. 

“I can imagine you are, I always hate Swamp of Sorrow’s missions,” Waltion replied, “that’s where rank pays off and you get to delegate.” He laughed and Mathias found himself chuckling along. 

“I’m sure my armour is ruined, the smell will never come out.”

“Didn’t wear your good armour did you?”

Mathias shook his head, “No. Thank the Light for small mercies.” 

“It’s your SI:7 kit? Trash it, requisition some more from Pathonia. I saw what you took her, she’ll give you anything you want right now.” 

Mathias smiled, “It’s definitely a much better feeling to be on her good side.”

Waltion’s eyes flashed with something Mathias couldn’t place, but it was gone just as fast as it came. “I should think that right now you’re her favourite person in all of Stormwind.”

“Makes a nice change from being the one she’s most pissed at.” 

“She pushes you for a reason, Kid,” Waltion said, deftly tiptoeing  around the tra pfall  of saying she didn’t want Mathias dying like her daughter  had . Pathonia was a hard woman to deal with, but not without her reasons. “She wants you to be the best, and you are certainly shaping up to be. I know she’s proud.” 

Mathias gave a noncommittal shrug, “I know. I don’t resent her for trying to make me better.” A lie, something that was becoming far too common these days. Although, arguably, a useful skill to refine for his trade. 

“You’ve done a good job, Mat. She can only push you in the right direction, you were the one who put the  actual  effort in.”

Mathias snorted a laugh, “I didn’t have a whole lot of choice when I was being thrown against the mat every training session. It was a case of get good fast , or break my back before I hit sixteen.” 

“Well,” Waltion teased, “I do believe you asked for it by shouting ‘do it again and I’ll kick your ass’.”

“Edwin’s influence, I assure you.”

“Hmmm of course,” the old er agent agreed with a wise nod, “still, I’m proud of you, you’ve come a long way from the kid who was adamant he was going to use two scimitars in close combat.” 

“I still might,” Mathias grinned, “it would look great.” 

“You’re a rogue. You do realise the idea is that you are  _ unseen, _ not that you loo k good.” 

“I can be unseen  _ and _ look good.” 

Waltion’s eyes narrowed, “Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re joking or being serious.” 

Mathias chuckled and stood, “I’ll keep you guessing a while longer. Lunch is on me.” He pulled a few gold coins from his belt pouch, and dropped them onto the ta ble, “I imagine Pathonia is finished by now, I’m going to head back and let her gush over how amazing I am.” 

Waltion snorted, “Enjoy it while it’s hot. Good luck, Kid.” 

Mathias waved over his shoulder as he walked out and onto the bright street,  weaving his way through  the crowds towards SI:7. Pathonia greeted him with an uncharacteristic  grin, excitedly beckoning him into her office.

“This is exemplary work, Mathias.” Pathonia sat with her hand splayed over the journal, as if it were a holy relic entrusted to her care by some supernatural deity. Which surprisingly wasn’t too far from the actual truth. “This is more than I ever hoped for, and unfortunately shows just how badly we underestimated the number of practicing necromancers.” 

Mathias nodded, “Yes, but now we have the upper hand. I want to get back out there and start removing them immediately. I’ve already started a mission plan for you.” 

“You’re...surprisingly eager.” That was new. Mathias had always shown the potential but never the drive. 

Mathias shifted his weight as he debated how truthful to be, but with Pathonia in such a good mood, he felt like he could get away with doing so. A sprinkle of truth in his lie. “I am having a hard time in Stormwind at the moment, and I w ould prefer to spend some time away. It makes sense that I act on this information while it is fresh, for both myself and Stormwind.” 

“VanCleef?”

The young spy barely nodded, “Please, Spymaster, I can do this. I’ve proven it to you already. Let me go and do something useful that is as far away  from here as possible.” 

“O f course ,” Pathonia agreed aft er a short pause . One day Mathias would need to face up to his emotions, but she wouldn’t make it today. “Very well, give me your report and I’ll authorise your mission.” 

Mathias asked for the journal, and reluctantly Pathonia handed it over. There was a small office next to hers where he sat himself down with a map, the journal, and some  blank sheets o f parchment. It was work he enjoyed, methodical and tidy, placing pins in the map until all the jou rnal locations had been plotted, then planning the route through them all.

The most likely places for meeting the san’layn again were marked in coloured thumb tacks.  Quiet p laces outside of settlements, isolated or abandoned small holdings, watch towers long since forgotten. He could take an educated guess that any san’layn wanting to stay hidden wouldn’t be in a populated area for longer than absolutely necessary. That information he wisely left out of his report, but tucked it away for his own use.

Mathias spent a few hours painstakingly writing out a report that encompassed each  location’s name, the route he would  be taking, a nd a schedule, with an  extra added week for tracking any leads that could potentially differ from where the journal suggested they might be.

Well into nightfall, Mathias left his  plan  on Pathonia’s desk to be reviewed in the morning, and headed home to sleep. Excitement churned in his gut like a child on Wintervale eve. 

\-----------------

Shrike glided on the warm currents, her dark wings spread wide against the blue sky. Mathias’ ponytail flapped behind him like a banner, as he tilted his head into the summer breeze and closed his eyes. Stormwind disappeared into the distance and Mathias felt free. 

Pathonia had accepted his mission plan with a few provisos, ones Mathias was happy to accommodate. The only fight he put up was for her suggestion that h e worked as part of a team, stating he preferred to work alone, and wanted to prove himself as capable. Pathonia agreed, if only to fuel this ‘new’ version of Mathias, assuming - incorrectly - that he found his newfound enthusiasm _ in  _ working alone. 

Everything Mathias needed to survive was packed into a backpac k. He could restock along the way if needed , either from hidden SI:7 caches, or s mall towns on his route. He could hunt for food when he needed to, and find fresh water for both bathing and drinking. 

I t felt joyou s to be set free, but he couldn’t pretend that finding the san’layn again wasn’t a large part of that. From the map, he should be heading south-west towards his first marker, the home of a woman named Margreet Jalis,  who was working from an abandoned lighthouse on a small island off the coast of Westfall. 

Mathias checked his compass, and altered his course slightly. There was nothing to do but let Shrike fly, as he watched the green woods of Elwynn slowly shrink behind him, and  gradually melt into the dead, overworked red dirt of Westfall. 

As a young spy, he’d taken plenty of training missions there,  dealing with cutthroats and thieves from Stormwind mostly. With its proximity to the capital, it often served as a rest spot before, o r after,  a heist. It was rumoured that thousands of gold pieces were buried there, but so far, none of the farmers had been  successful in finding them.

After a few hours of flying, Mathias could see the lighthouse in the distance, surrounded by sharp rocks and churning sea. It didn’t look to be operationa l; the light at the top remained dark against the now night sky. Mathias urged Shrike low to the ocean , skimming across the black  water,  until they reached a craggy outcropping and Mathias could head  out on foot. Shrike - well trained - found herself a dry overhang where she would be hidden, and waited for the return of her master.

The door opened surprisingly easily for a building that was ravaged by storms of salt water. There was no rust on the hinges or lock like Mathias  had expected. There was no room behind the door, just a spiral staircase, and a rope handrail hanging from hooks nailed into the wall. Mathias climbed, and climbed, and climbed. An open hatchway at the top of the stairs led into a cosy and well cared for room, large enough for a kitchen, small cot, barrels of fresh water and a fire. 

Margreet was dead. Mathias had expected that, and thought t hat maybe he should  be vaguely worried he hadn’t killed any of the marks he had  claimed to. His heart jumped, fluttering in his chest at the sight of his actual target sitting in a soft chair by the fireplace with his feet, crossed at the ankle, up on the table. If it wasn’t for the dead body thrown carelessly on the floor, it would have been a welcoming scene. 

“Mathias Shaw,” the creature drawled, staring into the fireplace, “twenty-two years of age. Birthday, September seventh. Raised by your grandmother, Pathonia Shaw, after your father died before you were born, and your mother was assassinated when you were four.”  The San’layn finally raised his head to look Mathias in the eye, “You made fourth finger at age ten - quite impressive - and have slowly worked your way up the ranks to become future Spymaster of Stormwind. You’re well versed in all weapons, with an aptitude for stealth and missions requiring a ‘gentle’ touch. All reports say you are a man of talent, with a quick mind and  even quicker blades.” 

Each piece of knowledge was read off like he was a waiter with a menu, each bullet point a well aimed jab  at Mathias. “My, my, you are an accomplished specimen aren’t you,” the creature purred.

“You have me at a disadvantage here,” Mathias frowned. 

The monster ignored him, “You’ve also been busy in your time off, haven’t you? Tell me, all that research you did on my kind, did you learn anything?” 

“No, nothing worth knowing,” Mathias replied. A thick knot curled inside his stomach as he came to the realisation the san’layn had been closely watching him, and had information about him that was limited to his SI:7 personnel file. “How do you know all this about me?”

“Stormwind is my territory, little spy, I know everything and I see everything. I know you found the, ah...  _ cult _ ,” the creature grinned a cruel smile, “although, I don’t think you liked it there. That’s a shame. Personally, I find them a source of endless entertainment. They have such interesting ideas about my kind. They’re wrong,  of course , but they’re entertaining enough.”

“I did, and I never want to see any of them ever again,” Mathias replied tersely, suppressing the shudder of discomfort. Handsome Hectyr t ook unwelcome root in h is mind. Mathias shook the thoughts away, and replaced Hectyr with the real thing.

The san’layn kicked his feet down off the table  and stood , walking slowly towards Mathias, circling around him, leanin g in to scent his neck, “ Hm, you aren’t scared this time. I think you knew you’d find me here.” 

“I  knew,” although Mathias couldn’t say  how , only that he did , “and no, I’m not scared of you. You are a man with a plan, one I either play a role in already or will do soon. If you wanted me dead then, you would have  killed me  already.” 

Glowing red eyes narrowed, “Presumptuous little shit, aren’t you?”

“No, not at all. As you already stated, I have a quick mind. So the fact I am not dead, and that you have sought me out three times, suggests you have a vested interest in keeping me alive. Also, you took the time to research  _ me _ , which I doubt is usual for you to do with any human you aren’t planning on killing.”

Heavy boots clunked against the wooden floor as the San’layn moved, Mathias paid him no mind and stepped  further into the room to make use of the warm fire. The san’layn scented the air heavily, lip curling in agitation as his red eyes followed Mathias. There was no fear emanating from Mathias  like there had been in the delicious waves of their past meetings.  No, the s py looked at ease as he leaned against the stone fireplace, following the san’layn’s movements  with his eyes. No desire to escape or run, no self preservation in the face of death. It was a strange feeling for the san’layn, one that had never happened before, to have a human look him in the eye and say, ‘I’m not afraid’. 

“Also,” Mathias teased, ”you could have just asked my name instead of breaking into SI:7 for my personnel file. Most people find asking more polite.”

The creature growled. Mathias only smiled. 

“It’s flattering really.”

“Either you have a death wish or you are a stupid child, taunting monsters.” 

Mathias shrugged, still relaxed despite being greeted by flashing fangs and narrowed eyes. “Does my monster have a nam e? Pe rhaps I have to earn it?”

The creature growled low in his throat, fangs bared, but Mathias didn’t flinch. He may have, if he knew of all the ways ‘his monster’ was thinking of killing him. 

“Earn it,” the creature hissed, angry at the audacity of this man, but also somewhat impressed that a mere human would stand against him. 

“Very well, how shall I earn it?”

A war raged within the San’layn,  violent and bloodthirsty as wars tended to be. One side wanted to rip that tender throat out for his impudence and drink deeply, the other side demanded he immediately claim Mathias as his own. In a thousand years, he’d never met anyone who faced death with a smile and played with it. Maybe he was right with his guess, and Mathias really did have a death wish.

The shadow crossed the room in the blink of an eye, and tilted Mathias’ chin with a clawed gauntlet. Mathias lifted his chin further than asked, an act of submission in bearing his throat, or a show of defiance in being unafraid. Red eyes devoured him, as the creature’s hand slid down his throat, his thumb tracing the thick pulsing jugular. Aside from the deep breaths coming from Mathias, neither man moved.

The creature leaned in close, whispering into Mathias’ ear, “I may have a need for you yet.” Now he was close, and could see Mathias’ clearly in the bright flames of the fireplace, he made two realisations. The first was that the human was small, nearly a full head shorter and, even with youth on his side, he was unexpectedly slender. He knew from watching Mathias that his size was an asset, rather than a curse. He was lithe but solid, built for speed and stealth over brute force. 

The second thing, was that Mathias really had the most captivating eyes, the brightest, most beautiful, vivid green that the creature had ever seen. They were hyp notic, almost unnatural in colour, and remin ded him of the summer trees around his homestead, back when he’d been alive. 

Mathias’ breath hitched as the other man leaned in to scent his neck again, close enough for the dark moustache to tickle his skin. His hands flexed at his sides, almost desperate to reach out and grab the san’layn, drag him close and offer everything he was. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, only that he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. 

The creature licked at his neck with a purr that had Mathias ready to beg around his moan. That wasn’t fear he could smell on the needy human, the creature thought, no, it was far too sweet. Far too inviting. Mathias shuddered, leaning into the hand still wrapped around his throat. The clawed fingers stroked again as the creature breathed in the intoxicating scent of arousal. 

Interesting. Very interesting. 

“Catch me, little spy. If you can, I’ll give you my name.” 

Mathias choked on a needy moan, and opened his mouth to reply, but the creature was a lready gone . Mathias was left painfully hard in his pants, and gasping for air. He burned with such desire,  that  it threatened to set him alight. 


	4. Worgone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All My love to @trollsweat again

The creature had been conspicuously absent as of late, having been missing from the scenes of the last five targets Mathias had dispatched . 

Mathias had looked for him, of course, perhaps a little too eagerly to be just innocent curiosity , and had been bitterly disappointed every time. His latest mark,  a man called Harnold Livington, lay dead at his feet in a pool of his own blood,  having been killed by the cold draw of steel across his throat while he slept. He had stumbled around  for a whil e in the throes of death, trying desperately to summon an undead ghoul to fight for him while Mathias watched with a  blank expression.

He felt nothing. It wasn’t the first life he’d taken, nor would it be the last.  The red spray of blood that covered the walls, chair and the floor, seemed to be more than could fit inside the average human . The smell permeated the small cottage, thick and heavy in the air. Mathias thought of his san’layn (when had he started thinking of him as ‘his’?), and felt sick that his only feeling towards Harnold’s death was that it was a waste of good blood. 

There had been sixteen names on his hit list, spread over the entire south of the Eastern Kingdoms.  Now, there were only ten . Of the six dead marks, Mathias had  personally  killed all but the first, always catching his mark unawares in the dead of night. At least he was  finally making kills that he could take credit for as his own work. 

The smoldering red coals of the fireplace didn’t help take his mind off the san’layn thoug h. It felt almost as if the creature was still watching him, judging him for his thoughts.

Mathias opened the worn leather journal  he  kept in his belt pouch, and flicked through the pages until he found his list. Leaning into the soft candlelight, he scratched off a name with a pencil attached to the journal by a string. There was a desk in the corner of the room, stacked with books and jars of questionable liquids. Mathias pushed the jars to the side to make himself some space, and unfolded his tatty cloth map of the area, worn at the edges and stained  off-white from years of use. 

Mathias worked to a strict routine. A _ safe _ routine.  He kept his movements to the dark of night, and assassinations to the deep shadows , just like he had been taught. By day, he rested  at  makeshift camps, snacking on rations as he kept his report up to date, writing in a cypher only SI:7 could decode. After two weeks of sleeping on hard ground, suffering all types of weather, dreams of his warm bed and dry clothes were becoming a cruel  nightmare. 

With a weary sigh, and the directions to his next ma rk memorized safely, Mathias left the small cottage. A small clean up crew would deal with the mess he left behind, and take any pertinent books and evidence back to Stormwind to study. All he needed to do was leave a note at a  predetermined location,  chosen and set up by Pathonia. 

A low whistle brought Shrike down from the sky, skimming low enough across the ground that Mathias could jump onto her back without landing. With his weight firmly in the saddle, Shrike flew high, brushing the tips of the taller tree s with her talons, as Mathias directed her towards his next  locatio n. They probably wouldn’t make it by mo rning, but at the very least they should get close enough that it wouldn’t take them much longer to travel come daw n. There were three more marks in Duskwood, after this one.  With its many graveyards,  it seemed to be the favoured spot for the Necromancers to set up shop. Many of Stormwind’s citizens were buried there, how many were now the shambling abominations mindlessly roaming the area? Mathias was feeling downhearted. 

The ride itself wasn’t long, Mathias scratched at his chin, a nd the sparse facial hair that grew ther e, as he debated whether or not he could manage two assassinations in one night. Shrike flew silently, making good time with the help o f a strong updraft  and the summer night’s wind. 

Just as the sun began to rise over the  jungle of Stranglethorn Vale , the next mark died in her bed,  briefly  waking with a bubbling scream, before falling into eternal slumber. Her undead  minions  had been trolls,  easily stealthed past, and dropping like flies as he did so.

Mathias was not enjoying ‘freedom’ as much as he thought he would. There was blood on his hands that wouldn’t wash off. Even with the knowledge that he was doing a good thing, ridding the world of their taint, he still felt unclean. Freedom came at a price, and that price was a dirty conscience, and an uncomfortable bed on gravel. 

It was another four  successful assassinations before Mathias saw the creature again. He’d almost given up hope at that point. He’d slept all day with his backpack as a pillow, and woke up just after nightfall to Shrike’s angry squawking, h er feathers ruffled as she paced . 

“Disgusting, unclean creatures,” the creature hissed. Shrike squawked back, snapping her beak at the intruder.

“You?” Mathias said with shock, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like this was still a dream, “what are you doing here?” 

“Finally, you’re awake,” the creature growled, e yeing Shrike with disdain , “your bird is repulsive.” 

Mathias frowned, “Shrike, back down.” The gryphon obliged after one last angry snap at the san’layn. 

“Most living animals don’t come near the undead, but I see your  bird takes after you, and wants to pick fights with them. You are a perfect match .” 

Mathias reached out a hand to pet Shrike’s head as she came to stand beside him, chittering angrily in the san’layn’s direction. “S he was gifted to me on  my eighteenth birthday. My grandmother said she’s a good fit for me because she’s stroppy and prone to tantrums.” 

The creature wrinkled his nose in distaste, “You should have asked for a return. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about your terrible choice in mounts. I came here to tell you that all three of your Redridge marks are dead and burned.”  The creature smiled, a brief flash of sharp teeth in Mathias direction, “ That clears your schedule, correct? So you can do something for me.” 

Mathias narrowed his eyes at his...friend? Companion? The San’layn he found  _ far too attractive,  _ who was making one too many appearances in his latest dreams? “That depends on what you want me to do.” 

“No, it doesn’t,”  the creature growled and stalked forwards, ba cking Mathias against a large Oak tree, “you will do it because I tell you to do it.” 

Mathias gave in far too easily, grunting quietly as his back hit the gnarled bark and caught in his hair, tugging at the strands already dishevelled by weeks of travel . When the san’layn leaned in to ghost his lips against Mathias’ neck, feather-light against his jugular, Mathias tilted his head back like an offering an d he arched to press his bo dy against the other man’s. 

“And that’s why you’ll do it,” the creature purred, scenting that same sweet arousal on the human’s skin, smiling cruelly into the gentle curve of his neck, “you’ll do whatever I tell you to do.” 

Light, but he would, Mathias thought. The creature had him pinned and instead of fighting, all he could do was ride the waves of arousal taking his breath away. His mind, lusted over in a fog of want, could find no reason not to do what was asked, if it meant staying where he was for a moment longer. 

“Would you like to know what you’re going to do for me?” The creature asked, his voice low and seductive against the shell of Mathias’ ear. 

Mathias moaned a ‘yes’. 

“Good boy,” the creature purred as he stroked Mathias’ face like a favoured pe t. “T here’s an abandoned farmstead to the south of Darkshire. There, you will find a barn, and inside that barn, you will find a hunter and his captive. I can’t get close to him myself, he’s using undead wards. But you can. Kill the hunter, free his captive an d…” 

Mathias snapped suddenly back to his senses, “I’m not killing an innocent person.” 

“He’s not innocent, he’s hunting my kind, killing civilians in his crossfire to get to his marks. That’s your job isn’t it? To protect the helpless? I can stay out of his way, but  _ t _ _ hey _ ca n’t.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Mathias asked, his gre en eyes narrowed as he searche d the San’layn’s face for proof. 

The san’layn traced Mathias’ bottom lip with his thumb, “I have never lied to you, every question you’ve asked I have answered honestly. This hunter is a danger, to his captive, and to Stormwind if he decides to hunt me there.” 

“Why can’t you kill him yourself?” 

“I told you, he is using undead wards that prevent me getting close.” His tone  shifted  from the gentle, seductive persuasion to something edged with annoyance and hate, “If I could, don’t you think I would have done so already?” 

Mathias frowned as his foggy mind rattled through his options. If he killed this hunter without truly knowing what threat he posed, then was it morally right? On the other hand, if the San’layn was telling the truth, then did he not have a duty of care to the one being held captive? Would it be considered a preemptive strike to take out a threat before he made it to Stormwind?

The creature sighed, sensing Mathias’ hesitation, and  offered a compromise, “Stealth in, and assess the situation, like you usually do. If you decide I am lying, then walk away, and I will not ask you ag ain. But if you decide I am telling the truth, then you save a life, plus all the ones who would have been caught in the crossfire of his anger.”

“Tell me your name,” Mathias frowned, “a show of trust.” 

The san’layn stepped back, away from the warmth rolling off Mathias in delicious waves of life and lust. “You will go if I tell you?” 

“I will go to stealth it out. After that, I will make my own choice when it comes to my next move.” 

The creature paused, regarding Mathias carefully, drawing out the moment to make it seem like he was seriously considering if Mathias’ offering was enough. It was, but Mathias didn’t need to know that yet. All he needed was for Mathias to be there, the rest of the plan would unfold naturally. “Very well, I agree to your terms,” the creature paused again, letting the silence of the night hover between them, “I am Nathanos.” 

Mathias repeated the name quietly. It was a go od name, a st rong name, very fitting of the handsome face watching him with...curiosity? No. Something strange, as if weighing up his very soul, cutting through the flesh and bone to see what lay underneath. It was unnerving. 

“Very well,” Mathias agreed, pleased that his fantasy now had a name, “I will scout it out.” 

Nathanos nodded and offered a warning, more than he would bother doing for anyone else, “Do not underestimate him, Mathias, he will kill you if he has the chance.” 

“I will be careful...Nathanos.” 

\----------------

Mathias left Shrike at a stable in Darkshire and headed south on his own, encountering shambling undead, the failed experiments of necromancers allowed to wander free. Those he saw he took out with a prayer to a god he didn’t believe in, to lead them to peace in the shadowlands. He spent too long wondering if the prayers even mattered, an undead was just a reanimated body and the soul was probably - hopefully - long gone somewhere better. 

Just as Nathanos had said, about three miles from the tow n, the skeletal remains of a large barn appeared out of the gloom. Decapitated undead littered the ground, making the area safe for the first time in decades, Mathias surmised that the hunter had cleaned them out, rather than risk them coming for him in the barn. 

Knee length grass grew between wild and untamed bushes, covered in red berries that Mathias knew  would mak e a decent poison for his weapons at a push, although he couldn’t remember their name off the top of his head. He’d already shifted into stealth, merging easily with the shadows as he followed the flattened grass path towards the barn. 

The moment that Mathias stepped into the shadow of the old building, he knew something wasn’t right. The night was neither cold or cloudy, yet the air felt tense , and prickled like the world before a thunderstorm, as if Azeroth herself was warning him away. 

Mathias didn’t heed her warning and tiptoed closer. Sitting inside, on an ol d upturned c rate, was the hunter, a large straight sword in his lap. Mathias couldn’t see it, but he could hear the unpleasant and unmistakable s ound of a sharpening stone being slowly dragged over the steel.  It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end , and set his teeth on edge with how eerie it sounded against the silent night.

From what he could see, the man was older,  his armour criss-crossed with dents and deep scratches,  and he was wearing a high metal collar to,  presumably , stop a san’layn bite. The stories t his  man could tell if he was so inclined, Mathias imagined that they would keep him riveted for hours. 

A sharp breeze rustled the dried leaves on the ground, and the hunter looked up, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he scented the air. He was on alert in a second, standing up and taking the two handed sword defensively in front of him. Sharp eyes searched the shadows and could find nothing out of place, but the smell of death had him on edge. 

Another breeze, and this time Gregory Howell pinpointed his target, locking on to the scent and launching towards Mathias. It was all Mathias could do to raise his blades and deflect the attack, but it still sent him flying backwards into a stable partition,  knocking him out of stealth and winding him, his body aching all over. 

“There you are,” Gregory growled, and paused as he sniffed the air again, “Human? You reek of death. Did _ he _ send you? Too much of a coward to do his own dirty work?”

Mathias dragged himself up, his blades held out ready this time. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll kill you too. I have no concern for the death of San’layn sympathisers.” Gregory ran again, but this time Mathias was ready for it, deftly slipping away from the slow attack of the two handed weapon. Steel met steel with a sharp clang of metal that ricocheted up Mathias’ wrists to his elbows. The pain of being thrown still hadn’t left him, and now with the attacks, he felt like every bone in his body was rattling with the force. 

Mathias’ strength lay in close combat, but against the reach of l ong sword he couldn’t get close enough to  be  on the offensive. He could just manage to stay defensive enough to block each swing as he looked for an out, Gregory saw that, meeting it with an angry snarl and even more brutal attacks. 

This wasn’t what Mathias had agreed to, but between each heavy hit of the sword, he suddenly realised that this was exactly what Nathanos had planned. Nathanos pinning him to the tree hadn’t been a game for his enjoyment, it had been Nathanos covering him in his scent, Mathias had been played for the fool. A pawn. 

Nathanos had known Gregory would smell Mathias coming, and had counted on it, knowing the hunter would immediately attack at the smell of death. It had worked even better than he’d expected, Gregory was now hellbent on killing Mathias and blind to his surroundings. 

Mathias felt sick knowing how easily he’d been played, and now he had no choice but to fight for his life. For every attack, Mathias countered cleanly, but he was built for speed and not stamina and he couldn’t keep it up forever. He was as careful as he could be, his footwork immaculate as he refused to allow his attacker to back him into a corner. 

Gregory grinned a feral smile, his blue eyes sparkling with the thrill of the hunt. He pulled back and tossed his sword to the side. Mathias thought it overconfident and tried to seize the moment, he went all-in, darting forward and slashing at the human, a move that would have killed any lesser opponent. 

Gregory jumped back with a cold laugh, his reflexes too fast to be human, and Mathias watched in horror as the creature shifted. His human form twisted with a sickening snap of bone and tearing muscle, rearranging into a monstrous new form with the head of a wolf. 

“He sent you to die, little mouse,” Gregory snarled a laugh, his yellowed fangs flashing as he lunged forwards with claws sharpened like razors. 

Mathias jumped back, but even at close range he was now outmatched by an opponent twice his size and five times as strong. The hunter pounced again, this time s lamming h is shoulder into Mathias’ chest and sending him flying back onto the uneven ground. Mathias couldn’t breathe, his ribs burned from the impact, which would have no doubt broken them without the protective armour he wore. He could smell the wolf’s rancid breath as the hunter pinned him down and growled in his face, drooling over his cheeks. 

Mathias’ twin daggers were gone, laying somewhere in the leaf litter. He tried to pull his back up  knife  from his belt, but his arms were pinned too heavily at the bicep to form any kind of attack. His short life flashed before his eyes,  about to be ended by a creature he couldn’t even name. 

He was going to die and Nathanos sent him to his death. If by some miracle he survived, well...at least that crush was dead, figuratively and metaphorically. 

Mathias closed his eyes as he pictured Edwin’s cheeky smile, Pathonia’s face when she had said she was proud, Waltion’s warm laugh as they sat together at dinner and spoke of Stormwind’s newest gossip. He thought of Tabitha and his books. The parents he didn’t know and the handsome Nathanos, who had offered him so much, only to take it away in one cruel blow. In that moment, he realised there was good in his life, lit tle moments, shining like sta rs in an otherwise bleak life. He _wanted_ to live. 

The killing blow never came.  Instead, the creature howled in pain. Mathias felt the splash of hot blood over his armour before he saw what  had caused it. Gregory released him as he roared in  anguish and gripped  the blade of his ow n sword, now protruding through his chest. 

Mathias kicked himself free and scrambled backwards, as far from the wolf as he could before his back hit the remains of a wooden grain barrel. Nathanos stood over the creature, his expression neutral as the wolf twitched at his feet, not dead yet, but soon to be. 

“You played your part admirably.” 

“My part!?” Mathias snarled at the san'layn, “you knew he would attack me! You set me up!”

“Of course I knew. I needed him to do so.”

“You made me bait!” Mathias’ blood burned with anger. Adrenaline pumped through his veins so strong that he still wanted to fight. 

Nathanos didn’t look apologetic, “He could smell me coming every time, but he couldn’t do that when you also smelled of me. While he was distracted with you, I was free to wait for an opening.” 

“You used me!” Mathias shouted, “you promised I could scout and walk away.” 

“I did, and you could have. You were the one who got caught.” 

Mathias forced himself to stand, there wasn’t a single cell in his body that didn’t hurt, “I could have died!” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“That isn’t the point!” 

Nathanos shrugged, “It is exactly the point. I was here _ protecting _ you.”

“You can’t protect someone that _ you _ put in danger in the first place!” 

“I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down enough to stop shouting. It’s very unbecoming.” Nathanos turned and looked over the stable doors as he went, his eyes searching for something. 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Mathias snarled, “What was this?”

“Do be quiet,” Nathanos growled at him, “I told you we would talk when you stop your childish tantrum.”

“Tantrum?” Mathias shouted, “you didn’t steal my favourite toy, you nearly stole my life!” 

“You did your part, you saved the captive. Why does it matter  _ how  _ you did it?” 

“The captive?” Mathias asked quietly, he’d all but forgotten that was the objective over his fear and anger. 

Nathanos didn’t reply, perhaps he never heard the question. Finally he found what he was looking for and stepped inside the stable. Mathias limped down towards him, using the rickety partition wall as a support. Inside was a man in his early twenties, his tanned skin bruised and bleeding. A thick iron collar had rubbed the skin of his neck raw. A ring connected his wrist shackles to the collar, and a chain connected ankles to both, forcing the man into a fetal position, where it was easy to control him.

Nathanos was gently stroking the long blonde hair matted with blood, whispering so quietly that Mathias couldn’t hear, even though he stood only six feet away. The man groaned, his lips chapped and bloody, his face gaunt. The groan was enough for Nathanos to relax a little and look back at Mathias, “Search the dog, he’ll have keys on him.” 

Mathias wanted to argue and say he was done being Nathanos’ toy, but his need to help a civilian overwrote his anger, and he stormed off to rifle through the wolf-man’s pockets. 

He kicked the hunter’s leg to make sure he was dead. More at ease now he was sure, he bent down and ran his hands over the leather armour, finally finding his prize and pulling out the jingling ring of keys from an inside pocket. The creature really was fascinating, an animal but a man, like nothing he'd seen before, even in his books. 

He tossed the keys at Nathanos’ feet, “I’m done with hel-” he froze mid sentence as his eyes caught sight of Nathanos hold his bleeding wrist, cut by his own fangs, to the lips of the injured man. “What are you do-?”  His eyes narrowed, “ He’s... san’layn?” Mathias’ anger grew red hot again with that revelation, a storm of emotions churning in his chest, “You lied to me to rescue a san’layn?” 

“I didn’t lie to you, but did you really think I would do all this for a human?” 

“You said we were rescuing a captive.” 

“I did, and we are.” 

“I assumed a human captive!” 

Nathanos looked annoyed, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder. “That is your mistake then isn’t it? Perhaps next time, you should ask more questions and be less  aroused .” 

“There won’t be a next time,” Mathias spat, “We are done. I want nothing to do with you ever again. Don’t come near me. Don’t  come near my marks. Don’t exist within a mile of me.” 

Mathias stormed off, only to hear Nathanos shouting after him, “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

He grit his teeth and kept walking. 

\-------------------------

Mathias finished his mission with a week to spare, only two of his marks hadn’t been where the journal had them listed, but it had taken less than three days to find and dispatch them. Pathonia wasn’t expecting him back for another six days at a minimum, and probably fully expected he would need more time. Mathias had done his weekly check ins, and Pathonia knew he was alive. That gave Mathias some time to fly north into Redridge and check  that Nathanos had made the kills he said he had. 

Nathanos was waiting for him at the old watchtower into Redridge. Mathias had stared at him with undisguised hate and kept flying, pointedly  refusing to acknowledge  his existence. 

Nathanos had at least been a man of his word when it came to the kills. The first two marks were dead, their charred corpses almost indistinguishable from the blacked remains of their former buildings. Nathanos was leaning on a fence as Mathias approached the third, obviously waiting for Mathias to land. Mathias did not, he circled Shrike over the cottage until he could see human remains, then left, mission complete, for Stormwind and his own bed. 


	5. Hunter hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to @trollsweat!

The crowds were thicker than Mathias could have  ever imagined; i t seemed  like everyone in Stormwind had come out for the celebration. From his spot on the roof of a tailoring shop, Mathias could just make out Queen  Tiffin Wrynn holding  the baby Prince, Anduin, on the steps of the Keep.  King Varian stood up front, speaking loudly to the crowded masses, but h e was just too far away for the spy to hear what was being said. 

Mathias had drawn the short straw, everyone in SI:7 had wanted to be close to the Wrynn’s. Having only returned from his necromancer hunt a few weeks before, and missing Pathonia’s organisation for the eventual announcement, Mathias earned himself a place on the outskirts. He knew it hadn’t been done out of spite, more likely  that  Pathonia wasn’t sure he would be back in time at all. 

Mathias kicked his feet against the stone, feeling carefree in the joyous atmosphere. The sun beamed down on him under the clear sky, as if Azeroth herself was giving the happy parents her blessing. Mathias spread his fingers over the warmed stones, as the crowd chanted for baby Anduin. 

He smiled to himself, he could almost hear Nathanos’ sneer , ‘ it’s sickening isn’t it?’. Nope, he shook that thought away quickly, he was  _ done _ with Nathanos. In the month he’d been back, Nathanos had been in Stormwind, always waiting where he knew Mathias would see him. Mathias would simply glare at him then walk aw ay. At some point, the san’layn would  surely get the hint. Perhaps Nathanos was watching  him now, unseen in some dark alleyway, most likely that was the case. Nathanos did claim to see everything that happened in  _ his _ city.

A roar of a cheer waved through the crowd, as they pumped their arms and cried out, easily drowning out what little of Varian’s voice he had been about to make out. Mathias watched them closely as he pondered over Nathanos’ question, how many of them  _ would _ he sacrifice for Varian’s life? A significant number would probably give their own lives for their king, but that wasn’t Mathias’ choice, that was their own. 

Mathias growled to himself and shook his head, deciding there was no point pondering a question that had no answer. Or if it did have an answer then it was one Nathanos held close to his chest.

Tiffin and Varian turned and headed up to the keep with their newborn son wrapped safely in the protection of hidden SI:7 agents. The crowd thinned but didn’t disperse, now was the time for celebration. Weeks of it if they had their way. 

A selection of ce lebratory foods and drinks was being supplied by the Wrynn’s,  with a generous donation from the house of nobles, a gesture that would no doubt upset the Stonemasons, who were still fighting for payment of their services. Mathias scrubbed his hands over his face. No, now wasn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts. Both Nathanos and Edwin took up too many of his thoughts these days, and he needed to break that habit before it destroyed him emotionally.

Mathias hopped down off the roof once the crowds had thinned, and he was sure nothing untoward was going to happen. He used the shop’s canopy to slide down safely to the ground, landing quietly on his feet  ( not that anyone would have heard him, even if he was as heavy footed as an orc ).  At ground level, however , he realised  just how bad the crowds really were.  F rom above they  had looked easier to navigate, but the  people  were tightly packed, and solid  as a wal l.  With a sigh,  he scaled back up the tailoring shop, using a drainpipe for purchase, and took the rooftops back to SI:7. 

When he finally arrived back at headquarters, it seemed that every available agent of SI:7 was crammed into the space, o nly those who worked nights or were away on missions hadn’t been called in. It was noisy and packed tight, plenty of agents were gushing over how wonderful the speech was, and how lovely it was for Varian to name Anduin after his mentor. Mathias ignored it all, even when they tried to engage him in conversation. All he could do was shrug and say he hadn’t heard anything from where he  had been stationed. Not that he particularly  _ wanted  _ t o hear any of it,  because Varian Wrynn was wrong, and while Mathias couldn’t say it, he was silently bitter at the man who drove a wedge between himself and Edwin. 

Mathias squeezed through the crowd, a nd leant against the wa ll outside Pathonia’s office with Waltion. “I take it everything went fine?” 

Waltion nodded, “Yeah, it all went to plan. I’m heading back up after this, no doubt things are about to get messy.” 

Mathias knew exactly  what kind of ‘messy’ Waltion was talking about. He hadn’t been happy with the nobles throwing gold at a party for Anduin,  and  he could only imagine how the Stonemason’s Guild were taking it. Edwin had always been hotheaded, and Mathias could  _ feel _ something coming.

But no one co uld have imagined ju st how bad that something would be. 

The crowd of agents immediately quieted as Pathonia’s door opened, and she walked out with  the General of Stormwind’s army at her side. For the better part of two days, they had been organising their forces together to bolster each other for the coming unrest. Between them, they had finally managed to get enough troops and agents working to cover all the planned celebrations and  maintain a secure guard up at the keep. 

Mathias listened as Pathonia addressed the agents. Part of him was bitter that he’d had no part in planning this big event, given his future as Spymaster, but the smarter part of him understood that he was compromised, and being sidelined for a reason. Try as he might, there was no way he could face Edwin with straight professionalism, his emotions were too tied to the man he’d once called his best friend. 

Pathonia was clinical in her approach to organising where her agents would be, and when they would be there. With Stormwind throwing an all out celebration, now would be a good time to attack and make an attempt on the King or Queen ’s lives . Mathias could only pray it wouldn’t come to that. 

\---------------------

Mathias had just sat down at his kitchen table when there was a knock at the door. He sighed and set his knife and fork down against his plate with a clink, eyeing the delicious looking food with frustration as he stood up. His first actual meal of the day, not just a quick snack on the job, and now it was going to get cold. What a waste.

He half expected it to be  one of SI:7s agents, or even Pathonia herself, bringing him a new updated schedule. Instead, it was a young man that Mathias vaguely recognised from somewhere, dressed in the typical Stormwind fashion of tunic and breeches, although his were all black, and not the favoured combination of dark bottoms and light top . Mathias had  sudden and unwelcome flashbacks of the san’layn cult.

“Can I help you?” He asked as he looked up and down, annoyed that he couldn't quite place the face.

“Uhhh...yeah,” the man replied, “you’re Mathias Shaw, right?” 

Mathias nodded, “I am.” 

“Great!” The young man looked relieved, but still fiddled nervously with his belt, “I thought I might have the wrong place. You’re a hard man to follow, I could barely keep up, and I’m fast.” 

“I’m sure that’s meant to be a compliment,” Mathias frowned as he judged how dangerous this man would be, “but forgive me for not taking it as such. I’m not a man who enjoys being stalked for any reason.”

“Stalked?” The man’s eyes widened, deep pools of chocolate brown so dark it was hard to see the pupil at all, “No! I mean...I guess I  kind of did, but I didn’t mean…” His shoulders sagged, “Could we talk? Please ? I know you don’t owe it to me...or  even know me, but I’d consider it a huge favour.” 

“How about you start with your name, and what you want?”

“Oh. Right, I suppose that would be best. My name is Penn. Uhhh... Oliver Pennville,  but  everyone just calls me Penn...used to work with a guy called Oliver and people had to tell the difference, it stuck..” He shifted uncomfortably on the step, accutely aware of how he was rambling in his discomfort. Mathias could tell he’d rather be anywhere else right now. He was tall and well built for a lean frame, but was doing his best to appear smaller and less threatening, “I’m the guy you saved from the hunter.” 

Mathias stiffened, “ You’re t he san’layn? Nathanos’ pet?” No wonder he hadn’t been able to place the face, l ast time he saw Penn he’d been battered, covered in blood and bruises. Penn looked younger this time, with his dark eyes and thick freckles over soft features. In his head, Mathias had imagined all the San’layn looked like Nathanos, with the gre y-hued skin of death, and the glow ing eyes like hot coals . Penn was a San’layn, of that much he was sure, he’d seen the man drink from Nathanos after all, but he looked ... alive. 

“Pet? I’m not a pet, although I’m sure Nathanos would get a kick out of hearing that. I am san’layn though, but not Nathanos’ .  At least, not by his bite...It’s complicated.” Penn ran a hand through his thick golden hair, shoving  an escaped  strand of fringe behind his ear, “he doesn’t know I’m here, and he’ll likely throw a fit when he realises I was. Please, can I just have a few minutes of your time? After that I will leave you alone for good if you ask it.” 

“The last san’layn to make me a promise broke it quite spectacularly, as I’m sure you’re aware.” 

Penn nodded, “I know. I didn’t know before he did it, or I’d have said something, but he acts as he wishes.” 

Mathias sighed and opened his door fully,  moving  aside to let Penn enter. “You know I want nothing to do with him, right?” 

Penn nodded again and stepped inside, keeping what he hoped was considered a respectful distance to Mathias. “Yes, he’s been  in a bad mood  about it.” He looked around the room, it didn’t feel much like a home to him, too sparse, too unwelcoming. 

Mathias was in no mood to be a good host or  to  make Penn feel welcome in any way, he leaned against the kitchen table with his arms crossed. His dinner still smelled delicious. “Ok, you have five minutes, so talk.”

“Right,” Penn sighed, “to be honest I’m not sure where to start. I thought that I’d have it all worked out by the time I got here but...well, I don’t.”

Mathias made no move to hurry him up. The clock was ticking, whether or not Penn spoke his part. 

“I guess ... the first thing is that I wa nt to say thank you. I know that My Lord wronged you in what he did, but you did save my life. If it’s any consolation, Nathanos wouldn’t have let you die, and he wouldn’t have asked you to go if he thought that you would.”

“It isn’t any consolation, no, ” Mathias frowned, he couldn’t even say he was glad Penn was out of there. For all he knew the hunter had been doing them all a favour, and Nathanos had lied about that too. “I don’t think you know ‘Your Lord’ as well as you think you do. He has already told me that one life is worthless. As long as he got what he wanted, I doubt he’d have cared what happened to me.”

“Look, Mathias, can I call you  Mathias?”  Penn didn’t wait for an answer, just sighed and began to pace the  small room, looking everywhere but at Mathias, “I’m not here to defend him, I am sorry for what he did, but...well he’s very old and he doesn’t have a good grasp of humanity any more. He works in absolutes, as long as the ‘mission’ is completed he doesn’t care how or the cost of it.”

“I care. That 'cost' could have been my life.” 

“Yes, but you have a grasp of morals and empathy. Nathanos does not. Like I said, he wouldn’t have put you in that position if he thought you were in actual danger.” 

“That isn’t the point, and it isn’t your job to apologise for his actions, it’s his and he hasn’t. You can go back to him and tell him that if he wants anything else from me, then it starts with an apology. A sincere one, from him, not you.” 

Penn opened his mouth to reply but snapped it shut. Nathanos never apologised, considering it a sign of weakness and a character flaw, apologising was admittance  that h e’d made a mistake, and Nathanos didn’t make mistakes. “I’ll talk to him,” he offered, expecting that would lead nowhere. “He likes you, you know? And I can see why, no one stands up to him any more, everyone is scared of him and avoids him like the plague, but somehow you got away with it.”

Mathias shrugged, “Then tell him to come and apologise properly, only then will I consider not ignoring him.” 

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I want nothing to do with him, and I wi ll keep pretending he doesn’t exist .”

“Right,” Penn said quietly, “I am sorry, Mathias.” 

“I told you, it’s not your job to apologise, it’s his.” He gestured to the clock on the wall, “your five minutes are up, and you’ve said your piece.” 

Penn followed Mathias’ finger to the spot above the fireplace, w here a large clock ticked away the seconds , “I’ll uhh, I’ll leave you to your dinner then. It was nice talking with you.” 

Mathias opened the front door and offered no form of farewell as Penn left. The  moment  he was alone, he felt the anger rising within him. How dare Penn come and apologise instead of Nathanos! How dare he be nice about it! How dare Penn bring him the one friendly conversation he’d had since Edwin. 

The kitchen chair made a horrible scraping sound as Mathias scooted it back under the table and grabbed for his knife and fork. He groaned loudly and stared up at the ceiling, the fish pie looked  so appetising, and it wasn’t even cold, but now he wasn’t hungry. 

\--------------------

Mathias didn’t expect an apology, nor did he really  _ care _ if he got one. His life was going fine as it was, and even if he did want to think about Nathanos, there just wasn’t  the time. 

With all the unrest of the Stonemasons, the birth of Anduin and the extra security needed at the keep, the usual problems Stormwind faced, and the agents constantly being sent out and rotated for missions. Mathias was kept extremely busy, just how he liked it. I t didn’t matter that it was work he didn’t want to do, only that it gave his mind something to focus on. 

He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and that was a good feeling.

He’d spend two days out of Stormwind, away from Nathanos’ glares and irritated huffing as he stalked the shadows like an unwelcome  shadow. The mission had been a c rap job for someone of his calibre, just running a sensitive document to a noble house out in Redridge, but someone had to do it and Mathias was glad for the chance to get away. 

Any excuse not to face up to Edwin, and that growing problem was fine by him. 

Just as he’d predicted, the Stonemason’s guild took the celebration badly, calling out the hypocrisy of being told there was no money to pay them, but being enough for a street party. Mathias silently agreed with them, but in his position, there was nothing he could do. He had brought it up to Pathonia and promptly been slapped on the back of his head and sternly told that wasn’t his place. 

If he had been in Pathonia’s shoes, he would have told Varian and the nobles to find the money and pay the workers. Even Waltion, the voice of SI:7 at the Keep, had told him things weren’t that easy, and  that it wasn’t their place to order the nobility around. Yes it made sense to pay the Stonemasons, Waltion had told him over dinner, but that it would solve nothing, a nd there would always be resentment between them now. Things needed to be smoothed over a lot more carefully than simply paying them and expecting that to be the end of it. 

Mathias sighed loudly as he walked the quiet streets home. The clocktower had just rung 3am and he’d been working for  a solid 18 hours without a break. He needed to sleep before his alarm woke him up at 7:30 am to start another gruelling day. As hungry as he was, he would take the four and a half hours sleep over sitting up for another hour to fill his stomach. 

Some people were still still celebrating in their homes, warm firelight spilling out through the windows onto the cold street. Mathias could  glimpse people inside, laughing and drinking around the fire, happy groups of friends and family,  none the wiser about how  Stormwind was really doing. He envied them and their naivety. They weren’t really celebrating Anduin, most people were just  glad to have any excuse to unwind. Mathias envied that too.

Mathias turned down a side street, and could see his own apartment above the poison shop. He called it ‘his’ home but it wasn’t  really, it was owned by SI:7 and he was  just  a tenant. It had never been inviting, but now it felt even more so. There was no one waiting for him, no one lighting a fire in the hearth so he’d be warm, no one offering  him a drink  and a friendly smile. It was...lonely. Cold. 

Slowly he trudged up the steps in the alleyway to his front door. In the distance, he could still hear people celebrating, and felt the cold sadness engulf him. These were the times where he’d n ormally be drinking with Edwin,  and they’d be winding each other up for fun, as they crowded around the small fire and jokingly flirted with each other.  That is, if they’d  still been friends of course.

Had it always been a joke to Edwin? T he playful flirting that tumbled so freely Edwin’s mouth ? It hadn’t been a joke to Mathias, who realised too late that his own flirting was an actual crush, and now he would now never know if anything could have come from it. 

The front door  of his home  swung open slowly, already unlocked. Mathias knew from his double checks that morning that it had definitely been secured . He was on the alert, his hand tight on the hilt of his blade as he surveyed his home. There, on the kitchen table, burned two candles, the ones he worked by late into the night. He definitely hadn’t lit them himself. His heart stopped in his chest, dropping like an anchor to the bottom of a murky ocean. Edwin? He had wished for things to be normal between them, a vain hope for something he could never have, but a hope nonetheless. 

“Like I didn’t have better things to do tonight, than wait for you to grace me with your presence.” 

Mathias groaned, as glowing eyes glared at him, like two devouring suns, trapped in the shadows. So much for an early night. “I didn’t invite you in here, I barely invited Penn. I am not even gracing you with my presence, in fact, I am still ignoring you.” 

Nathanos watched him from  beside the dark fireplace,  the  small side table acting at his footrest. Aside from his books, it was one of the few pieces of furniture Mathias had purchased for himself. The arrogance that the san’layn dripped,and the complete show of disrespect, burned Mathias up inside. 

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” He growled.

“Thank you, I have. Not that your home has anything of comfort in it.” 

“What do you want?” Mathias hissed, his exhaustion and bad mood colliding to form a spectacular new emotion that he dubbed ‘ _ I’d punch a cactus and enjoy it more than seeing you _ ’.

Nathanos’ voice was his usual bored drawl, but  sounded a little raw around the edges, as if it was being forced. “Penn told me he came to speak to you.”

“Yes,” Mathias said irritably, “please cast your mind back a whole thirty seconds to when I said ‘I barely invited Penn’.” 

Nathanos didn’t bite. “He  _ also _ said you think you deserve an apology.” 

“I deserve a lot more than that,” Mathias spat, “you nearly got me killed, and you  _ did _ get me injured.” 

Nathanos tutted, his eyes flickering in the darkness like the two candles on the table. “You’re so  melod ramatic, you weren’t going to die and you  _ did _ walk away.” 

“That isn’t the  _ point. _ You used me, Nathanos! You lied to me, and manipulated me into doing your bidding. I didn’t get a choice in fighting that man.”

Nathanos scoffed, “Not a man, a dog.” 

“You could have warned me!” 

“Why? From the start I’ve warned you about making assumptions, and yet you still do it.  _ You _ made the stupid assumption that someone hunting my kind would be human. Think about it, idiot, what kind of human could survive me? You’ve seen what I can do to t hem. A human hunter would be ridiculous. They wouldn’t stand a chance against even a fledgling. ” 

Mathias grit his teeth, that much was true now he thought about it. He hated that in hindsight he could see the glaring mistakes he’d let himself make. “It’s a mistake I won’t be making again. I want nothing to do with you.  A lthough, the way you’ve been hunting me through Stormwind, I don’t think you  quite understand that.” 

“Yes you do,” Nathanos replied, “and you hate yourself for it. You hate that even though you’re mad at me, you still want to see me. You hate that in your anger, you still  _ like _ me. And most of all, you hate that you lay in bed at night and touch yourself while thinking of me. Even now when you  despise me so much.” 

The colour drained from Mathias’ face, did the san’layn know, or was he guessing? 

Nathanos’ blank expression turned into a feral grin, sensing Mathias’ heartbeat change, and tasting the subtle shift into nervousness. “Ah, so I’m not wrong.” He kicked his feet off the side table and stalked over to Mathias with all the fluidity of a predator descending on prey. 

“I guessed,” he purred, crowding into Mathias’ space, “but you can’t hide anything from me. Tell me little spy, how do you do it?”

Mathias grit his teeth and roughly shoved the san’layn away from him, or he would have if his hands met anything more than shadowy smoke. Humiliation fuelled his anger. “No! You don’t get to change the subject, especially not to that!” He snarled, “I told your pet what I wanted from you, and until I get it, we are  _ done _ .” 

“Yes, you’ve had your little tantrum, and it’s getting very tiresome now,” Nathanos hissed, “it’s time to stop throwing your toys out of the pram and get over it.  W e’re not done until I say we are.” The gall of this human, making demands and acting like he had any power here. 

“I’m going to sleep . G et out of my house.” As pinned as Mathias felt under those glowing red eyes, he wasn’t going to submit to Nathanos’ bullying. 

Nathanos grabbed Mathias’ wrist with such force that the human could feel his wrist bones grind together. “I said it was time to end your tantrum.” 

Mathias wrenched his arm away and stepped forward, meeting the other man’s challenge with his own. He had never cowered to anyone, whatever emotion Nathanos decided to speak to him with, Mathias would meet it head on with the same. “And I said. Get. Out.”

“You’re really going to throw  a fit over a successful mission? Penn’s safe and the hunter is dead, how that was achieved doesn’t matter, only that it was.” 

“Apologise!” 

“No. I will not.” 

“Then we are done. You can come back when you have a sincere apology for me, and the longer you leave it, then the less inclined I  will be to accept it. I refuse to keep having the same argument with you, we’re just going around in circles.” 

Nathanos growled under his unneeded breath, the sound reverberating around the sparsely decorated room. Never in his life had he apologised for anything, and he wasn’t about to start doing so, just to appease a child of a man t oo stubborn for his own good. 

“You know what your problem is,” Mathias frowned as he jabbed a fin ger into Nathanos’ c hest, “Penn’s right, you have forgotten what it’s like to be a living, breathing person. You’ve taken so many lives at this point that you have no idea what life means any more. To you, life is a game, something to play for your own ends, it doesn’t matter who that life belongs to. You call my rightful anger a tantrum because you don’t  _ understand _ it.  Y ou have no grasp on me  _ OR _ life. You just do your thing, because you’re bigger, and stronger, and faster. That makes you a bully and I’ve  _ never _ been afraid of bullies.” 

Nathanos’ mouth thinned into nothingness, his anger palpable between them, rolling in choking waves off his cold body. “You think you know so much, but you’re a child, still so scared of the dark.” 

Mathias’ smiled coldly, “No. I am not. I’ve met you every step of the way, and I’m not scared of you. You posture around like the de facto King of Stormwind, saying that this is  _ your _ city and we’re  _ your _ people. You have to be right, because in your mind no King has ever been wrong. I’m not scared of the dark, Nathanos, but you are petrified of the light and what it will really show you.” 

“I am scared of nothing.” 

Mathias barked a laugh, “You’re scared of humanity. You’re scared that I’ll turn around and say ‘I don’t need you’. You’re scared of being  _ seen _ and  _ known _ , not physically, but as a man with flaws. You act aloof and full of anger, but deep down you’re as broken and lonely as the rest of us. No, I take that back, you’re more broken than any one I’ve ever met, the rest of us ‘cattle’ still have some empathy , but yours is long gone.” 

“You have some nerve,” Nathanos snarled, gripping Mathias’ shoulders and slamming him back against the wall, rattling a picture frame. 

Mathias laughed through the wind being forced from his lungs, as weeks of pent up aggravation poured out of the uncorked bottle. It felt great to direct that torrent of emotion at someone, instead of forcing himself to stay quiet and hold the peace. “It’s new for you isn’t it? To have someone call you out on your bullshit? At minimum, you owe me an apology and deep down you know it too. When you’ve stopped throwing  _ your _ tantrum about not getting your own way and resorting to violence to win this fight, you can come back and apologise to me. As things stand now, I am in desperate need of some sleep before I have to get up in three hours to go back to work. You’re going to leave and go back to wherever it is you come from, throw a fit ,  maybe dramatically throw a wine glass against the wall for all I care. The thing is, I’m going to bed.” 

Mathias shoved Nathanos away, this time his hands met a solid form, and the san’layn stepped back, more in disbelief than anything else. He didn’t move again, but stood and growled as he considered his next move. Either he left and Mathias won this round, or he stayed and had to listen to more horrible truths. 

“Stay then,” Mathias huffed, waving a hand dismissively, “I don’t care, but I’m going to  sleep. Put the candles out before you leave.” 

Nathanos stood in shock as Mathias walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, ending their conversation with the last word. The silence stretched out, Nathanos could hear Mathias crawl into bed, the rustle of covers and an alarm being set. After five minutes of staring in disbelief, believing Mathias would come back out, Nathanos blew the candles out and left with his tail between his legs. 


	6. Masked Affections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to @Trollsweat for the fixing this up and for the suggestion to split it into its own chapter. It definitely works better as a chapter on its own instead of being part of Chapter 5.

Stormwind was more alive than Mathias had ever seen it. It seemed every single one of its citizens were out on the street s to enjoy the  festivities . Mathias couldn’t see a single person who wasn’t in a mask, whether it was a paper-mache homemade affair, or beautifully carved  wood that only nobles  could afford. Every kind of animal walked the streets, from mice and cats, to bulls and dragons. Mathias found himself staring more at the costumes than focusing o n his job, but Cathedral Square was quiet, so he allowed himself a quie t moment  to take it all in. 

It wasn’t what Mathias liked, the crowds were too dense, the people too loud, and the dancing too energetic, but he could see why people were enjoying it. He had to admit that his job was made much  harder with every face covered . H e had to be ultra vigilant for anything out of place. 

On the original work order, Mathias had been assigned to the Masquerade Ball at the Keep, as the celebrations pertaining Prince Anduin’s birth continued , where his disguise would be perfectly suited for blending in with the elite. The moment he saw his name there and listened to Waltion tell him it was time to start making his face known to the Royals and Nobles, Mathias knew he wasn’t going. He was still upset about Edwin and blamed the  Royal Court unconditionally, so the desire to spend any time around them was as empty as the void. Behind Pathonia’s back, he’d swapped with Agent Valkin, who had been more than happy to spend time with her noble lover. That left him with the civilians in Cathedral Square, which he would have vastly preferred in the first place. The high class affairs had never been of any interest to him. 

Three children ran past him, two boys dressed as cats chasing a young girl in a mouse mask, her hair t wisted into two high buns to make mouse ears. They bumped his legs and shouted an apology as they darted through the crowd, leaving only peals of laughter in their wake. Mathias tutted, but didn’t have it him to be mad about it. 

He was uncomfortable dressed in blue cloth, and longed for his leather armour again. There was some light  protection hidden under the expensive material, but not enough for his liking. His mask was simple, a silver and blue enameled ra ven mask, the  mascot  bird of SI:7.  Overall,  he considered that he looked good, even if he would be hard pressed to fight in the long coat with the mask obscuring his vision. 

He’d spent the first hou r of his shift  mingling with the crowds, but soon found the socialising to be exhausting, and retreated to a quiet corner where he could watch without needing to interact. From his new vantage point in the western corner of the square, he could watch everything that happened without being constantly bumped and knocked around. 

One person in particular c aught his eye, not because he looked out of place, but because the stranger kept looking over at him.  Dres sed in an expensive suit, wrapped around a well built and solid frame, the  stranger dis appeared into the crowd. Mathias looked for him with a frown. He felt uneasy under the attention, not that he needed two guesses to name the stranger, only one person made him feel so vulnerable and naked with a single look. Nor would anyone else be making such a pointed dig at him by wearing a wolf mask. 

Mathias frowned harder under the mask, and stretched his neck left and right, looking through  the crowd for a glimpse of the san’layn. That he was here at all was strange, Nathanos had never struck him as being happy to be around so many people. They had always met in private, away from any prying eyes. In his distraction, he never saw Nathanos approach him until two hands gripped him by the waist and pulled him backwards, until he was pressed against a broad and solid chest. The shock of the touch ignited his fight response. He brought his elbow back hard as he spun in the grip. Nathanos caught his elbow before it could make contact and chuckled as he pulled Mathias close, the nose of the wolf mask pressed against t he beak of the raven . “You look divine,” Nathanos purred, “I could just eat you up.” 

Mathias didn’t have time to reply, which was exactly what Nathanos wanted as he dragged him onto the dancefloor, back into that noisy, sweaty mass of bodies. Mathias had no choice but to follow the death grip on his wrist, as Nathanos weaved between the other dancin g couples  to find them a spot. 

With an empty sp ot acquired, Nathanos took the lead and wrapped his arms around Mathias’ waist to pull him shamelessly close. He moved like liquid, surprisingly well versed in the steps to the waltz, which he followed with immaculate footwork. Mathias was forced into following the moves, for a dance he didn’t know. He stumbled, tripped and stepped on Nathanos’ feet, but the san’layn just laughed and pressed their bodies together, publicly claiming  Mathias as his own.

“Pretty sure I told you  that the next time we met I wanted an apology,” Mathias said firmly, his hands on Nathanos’ shoulders. There was no body heat warming the cloth, a detail that Mathias found strangely appealing. 

“Yes, yes,” Nathanos huffed, “both you _ and _ Penn are riding my ass on this, but  I. Do. Not. Apologise .” 

“Then you had best learn how to do so.” 

Nathanos sighed and spun Mathias, dipping him low. “I am sorry you felt like I betrayed you.” 

Gripping Nathanos’ strong shoulders for support, Mathias let himself be lowered. Part of him was enjoying this game, yes he was still mad, but the rest of him was burning with the want for it to continue. His outburst had felt good and for whatever reason, he wasn’t dead for saying it, instead it felt like he was being courted. “That’s not an apology. You’re blaming me.” 

“I’m not blaming you.” 

“Shall I tell you what to say? Do you need me to hold your hand through this difficult time of swallowing that massive ego of yours?” 

Nathanos growled, “You really are a mouthy little shit. I’ve killed people for less than you get away with.” 

“So why haven’t you?” 

Nathanos pulled Mathias flush against him and smiled under the mask, unseen but visible in his voice, “My secrets are my own.” 

“Your secrets are pissing me off,” Mathias bit out, but let himself be pulled close again. 

“Everyone has secrets,” Nathanos replied through a grin, “mine only annoy you because you don’t know them, and as a spy that really grinds your gears.” 

“No, what gets me really mad is you refusing to apologise for hurting me and getting me injured.” 

Nathanos stopped dancing and growled under his breath, “Will you stop whining and ruining our fun if I apologise?”

“It would certainly be a step in the right direction.” 

Nathanos rolled his eyes, “Stubborn little shit. Fine, I am sorry I ‘lied’ to you. Better?”

Mathias snorted, “You really don’t apologise often do you?”

“Never.” 

“It shows. You know you’re actually supposed to mean it right?” 

“What do you want from me?” Nathanos growled, “I said sorry.” 

Mathias’ lips split into a wide grin, “Oh, my secrets are my own.” 

Before Nathanos could even open his mouth to reply, a dancing mouse and tabby cat bumped him from behind, he staggered forward, only to be saved from falling by Mathias’ quick reactions. 

“You know,” Mathias purred, “It’s also polite to thank someone for helping you.” 

Nathanos huffed, his tone dripping sarcasm, “ _ Thank you _ , you’re so _ strong  _ and  _ brave _ .”

The urge to drop Nathanos was strong. So he did. 

Caught off balance, Nathanos stumbled forward and landed on his knees. Shocked and offended, he looked up at Mathias,  whose wide grin was visible under the edge of the mask. 

“I am  _ so _ sorry,” Mathias said with mock emotion, “ do let me help you up.” 

As Nathanos climbed back to his feet, he was treated to Mathias wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“Do you see how easy it is to apologise?” Mathias asked, carefully angling his face to keep the beak of the mask out of the way.

“I’m thinking of a hundred different ways to gut you right now,” Nathanos lied as his hands followed the gentle curves of Mathias’ sides to rest not so innocently against his hips, his thumbs stoking lightly.

“Sounds fun, but a waste of good blood if you ask me.” 

“I didn’t ask you. I bet you’d taste rancid anyway.” 

Mathias leaned in close and pulled Nathanos down so he could rest his chin on the broad shoulder. As much as he wanted to deny himself, he had missed Nathanos. Yes he was a horrible person, but there was a fire that burned in him, so hot it made everyone else pale in comparison. There was good too, Mathias knew it, for all his talk and bluster, Nathanos was a protector in his own rotten way. “I bet I’d taste as good as I look.”

There was a shift in Nathanos’ behaviour, nothing visible, but something Mathias could instinctively feel. He didn’t radiate the sickly aura of death he had on their first few meetings, but Mathias could feel something in its place. It shifted and twisted around him, unconsciously avoided by the other dancers, Mathias couldn’t name it, but he could sense it  in the way his stomach dropped.

“Are you alright?” Mathias asked, suddenly very irritated that the masks were in the way.

Nathanos just grunted a nondescript answer, and wrapped his arms around Mathias’ waist. He’d already decided that this man was his and growled at anyone who got too close. Things were so much easier when they were throwing barbed insults at each other, truth be told he wasn’t sure what to do with the affection Mathias so easily gave.

It occurred to Mathias that under any other circumstances, this could be considered a date. They were dancing to the gentle waltz, pressed so close together there may as well have been glue on their chests, and they both knew it was no secret Mathias had a crush. He was glad for his mask when his face blossomed in a bright blush. This was...nice, surprisingly so. 

The music slowly changed to a fast beat, perfect for the excitable crowd to dance and twirl too, but the pair rocked together, bodies flush as if the slow  waltz  was still playing. Nathanos didn’t have the heart to shove Mathias away, and that annoyed him. Of all the humans to take an interest in, why did it have to be the one who didn’t obey? The one who made demands, and had the gall to get angry when they weren’t met. 

“Don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I’m still mad at you,” Mathias couldn’t help but complain, if for no other reason than to hear his partner say something again.

Nathanos scoffed, “And that’s not a dagger against my thigh.”

“I wish it was, it’d be no more than you deserve.” 

Nathanos smiled, “How  lustful you are for death, it’s quite disturbing really.” 

Mathias stepped back, looking down the long pointed beak of his mask, “How  lustful you are for life, it’s disturbing. See how stupid you sound?” 

“I’m not the one sporting an erection in public.” 

The blush was back in an instant. Mathias was thankful for the mask, although the bright red showed on his neck. Suddenly incredibly self conscious, he tried to pull Nathanos off the dance floor. “It’s too busy here, let’s go somewhere quieter?”

“Somewhere quiet, huh? Got some plans have you?” Nathanos struggled to remember any time in his life when he’d met someone so unafraid of him, and eager to spend time in his presence. He followed Mathias up onto the rooftops, easily keeping up as the younger man made his way  towards the docks. Finally they came to a stop on a quiet rooftop away from the noisy celebrations, it wasn’t exactly private, anyone could look up and see them, but it felt secluded enough. 

“This isn’t my favourite place,” Mathias explained, “personally I like the view from the top of the clock-tower, but I do like to watch the ships from here.”

Nathanos didn’t reply. The view was nice, the moonlight glittered over the calm sea, only broken up by the silhouettes of ships at the horizon. He crossed his arms and leant on the wall, staring into the distance, lost in his thoughts. 

Mathias shifted uncomfortably. He’d never been the most talkative of people, and the silence that sat between them begged to be filled. “How’s Penn?” He ended up asking, struggling to think of any other topic. 

“Fine. Irritating as always.” 

“He seems to have recovered?”

“Like I said, he’s fine.” 

Mathias shifted again, “You’re not making conversation easy you know.” 

“Why does there have to be conversation? Why can’t you just enjoy the view in silence?”

“Because I want to get to know you.” 

Nathanos chuckled, “By talking about Penn?”

“Well if I ask anything about you, then you’re going to give me the run around and make it seem like you answered, but in reality you said nothing.” 

Nathanos wasn’t feeling as combative now.  H e’d refuse to admit it in any way, but he enjoyed Mathias’ company. At some point he would no doubt get bored of a human thinking they were equals, but for now he’d let himself enjoy it. Mathias was right in that regard though, he had kept himself as unknown as possible, even giving out his name had been a hard won prize. “ You may ask  three questions, and I will answer them. Unless I have a reason not to.” 

“Three?” Mathias p ulled the mask from his face and set it down on the wall. A triumphant grin on his lips . “Ok give me a moment, I need to think.” There were so many questions he wanted to ask! 

Nathanos could practically see the young man’s mind working through each one. He took his own mask off and set it down next to the raven . H e could feel the cool breeze now, brushing against his skin and hair. The cold never bothered him these days. It had when he was alive, and he’d always preferred the heat over being cold, but that had been so long ago he barely remembered what being too hot felt like.

“Ok,” Mathias hummed, “first question, why me? Why didn’t you kill me the first night?” 

“Technically, that’s two questions.” 

Mathias shrugged, “I’m taking a leaf out of your book and wording things carefully. It’s one question in two parts.” 

“Hmph,” Nathanos huffed, “fine, how honest do you want your answers?”

“I want the truth, as dark as it probably is.” 

“Very well.” Nathanos turned his back to the ocean and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, “the truth is you were a lot closer to death at our first meeting than you think you were. If I had fed  any less that night, then I would have killed you. I debated it, but you didn’t run . Yo u drew your weapons on me and, honestly , that was a ballsy move. It amused me that you thought you could win. It isn’t often something surprises me, so when it does I tend to take an interest in it.” 

“I didn’t think I could win,” Mathias corrected, “but I thought it better to go down fighting than running.” 

“I would have killed you if you ran, the only reason you survived was because you stood your ground against me. As for why you,” he half shrugged, “why not?”

“That’s not much of an answer.” 

“Sometimes the truth is dull. You’re demanding, easy to anger and for some reason you’re a roused by m e. That’s enough to interest me.” 

“You said I was useful to you, or I’d have a part to play.” 

“No,” Nathanos laughed, “I said no such thing. You decided that. Although I will admit you  _ are  _ useful. Even if you do complain about it.”

“Yes. Well. That was deserved.” 

Nathanos shrugged, “We’ll agree to disagree there. What’s your second question?” 

“Do you really not value human life? Are you a threat to Stormwind?”

“No.” 

That answer had been expected, but Mathias needed to know for certain, “What about my life? Do I have worth?”

“I would….” Nathanos frowned, his own words like poison to his soul, “I would keep you around for a while yet.” 

Mathias beamed and Nathanos felt annoyed that the expression made him happy. The weeks that he’d been ignored really had hurt him. 

“I don’t know what to ask for my last question. I have so many.” 

“You have one more, anything you learn after that is decided by what and when I feel like sharing, if at all .” 

“Ok.” He thought long and hard about what to ask. He could go hard with a question about Nathanos’ past and ask how old he was, or where he came from. Or ask why he decided to make Stormwind his home, or who made him a san’layn. He could even ask why Nathanos was he protecting people he didn’t value. He felt like his first two questions had been a waste, even though he had really wanted the answers.

Those questions, he decided, would be worth more if he didn’t ask them and the answers were given willingly. There was enjoyment in not knowing everything about Nathanos, the man was an enigma and that was worth exploring in its own time. To have Nathanos willingly open up to him would be a treat worth savouring. 

“My last question isn’t a question.” 

Nathanos side eyed him, “Then it isn’t a question.” 

“No, it kind of is. It’s just... not verbal.” 

Nathanos watched him expectantly. Mathias closed the gap between them and reverently ran his hands up Nathanos’ chest to grip his collar, pulling him down as he tiptoed up to press their lips together. Nathanos was frozen with surprise, he should have seen it coming...and yet. 

Mathias’ lips were warm against his own cold ones, unmoving, waiting for some kind of reaction. So this was his question? Nathanos answered in kind and pressed into it. He felt Mathias smile as he deepened the kiss, his tongue against Nathanos’ lips. Just as Nathanos was starting to feel it, the slow defrosting of his blackened heart, the kiss was over and Mathias had stepped back. It left Nathanos eager for more and annoyed that that had been it. 

“Huh,” Shaw said as he swiped a finger over his lips, “cold.”

“That’s it?” Nathanos barked a laugh, “that’s your kiss?”

“Yeah?” Mathias cocked his head. An expression far too cute for Nathanos to deal with. “I mean…” Nathanos had shared, so Mathias thought it only fair to do the same, “that was my first, y’know? I’m not entirely sure what it entails. I just wanted to know if I could or if you’d rip my face off for trying.” 

“Your first?” Nathanos asked, his expression one of bewilderment and confusion, “and why would I rip your face off? I thought I’d been fairly obvious that I wasn’t against your constant...what’s a nice way to say this? Rather keen affections?” 

Mathias blushed, like he had any control over his body when it was faced with the force of Nathanos’ dominating personality. “Not obvious, no. I thought it was a game to you. I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested in me or not.” 

“Waste of a good question if you ask me, but you’ve really never kissed anyone before?” 

Mathias shook his head, there hadn’t been time to explore that, he’d been hoping that one day it would be Edwin. Nathanos’ grin turned feral, if he’d never kissed then there were definitely other things he hadn’t done, “well in that case let me show you how it’s done properly.”

He pulled Mathias close and gently cupped the back of his head. The kiss started slowly, little more than a meeting of lips, and light caresses that had Mathias squirming against him. Leading the kiss and teaching Mathias as he went, Nathanos deepened it, his tongue flicking out against the seam of Mathias’ warm lips, seeking entrance. Mathias was a fast learner, and parted his lips readily, granting Nathanos’ entrance to his mouth. 

With a moan, his arms wrapped around Nathanos’ neck, dexterous fingers mussing the dark strands of hair. Nathanos’ moustache tickled at his upper lip as the san’layn continued to devour him, the touch of Nathanos’ tongue against his own stealing away every breath he wanted to take. Mathias clutched at Nathanos’ neck as his mind went blank of everything except the glorious sensations of Nathanos’ touch. It felt like his soul was being sucked out of his body, and he would gladly let it go if it meant he could stay like this forever. 

When Nathanos changed the angle, and sucked Mathias’ lower lip between his own, it was all Mathias could do not to collapse there and then. His legs were weak, shaking with arousal, and he clung to Nathanos like a lifeline as the san’layn dove back in with more fervor than before.

Nathanos kissed like he was starved for it and, in truth, he was. He couldn't remember the last time he’d kissed with such desperation, that had been far too long ago, with someone he cared not to let his thoughts linger on. A light sea breeze blew, doing nothing to help cool the furnace that burned in Mathias. His arousal left a thick scent in the air that had Nathanos’ mouth watering, and his pants feeling far too tight. 

Some time later, Mathias pulled back with a soft “ _ Oh _ ,”. He was panting heavily, his lips slick and glistening with saliva. He took in a few deep, gulping breaths to steady himself, his face red, and his eyes on fire with need. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and Nathanos watched with lust and greed as Mathias leaned in for more, the younger man’s lips brushing against his own as he spoke, “I think you need to show me that again. I didn’t quite get it the first time.” 

Nathanos just chuckled and, for the first time in a long time, did just what he was asked without a complaint.


	7. Easy as Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no Nathanos in this one but it worked better without him and just Penn. 
> 
> My thanks to Jay for editing <3

“You swapped with Valkin,” Pathonia was strangely calm, her arms crossed on her desk as she watched her grandson squirm under her sharp gaze, “without my permission to do so.” 

Mathias wasn’t stupid enough to think he was safe. Pathonia might have looked calm, but there was a dangerous riptide swirling under the surface. Mathias could _feel_ it more than see it, like a tangible force wrapping around his chest, constricting his breathing. His heart slammed against his ribs, like a wild bird trying to break free of its cage. 

This was a new kind of anger, bypassing the usual shouting and threats, and jumping straight to the cold aftermath. Pathonia was angrier than Mathias had ever seen her and that scared him.  H e walked uncharted territory. He could have dealt with the usual anger, as he had for most of his life, but this was so different. In that moment he realised just how badly he’d fucked up. 

The large office was ice cold, despite the warm sunshine streaming in from the window behind the desk. Pathonia’s eyes were even colder. She fixed her grandson with a look so sharp ,  Mathias was sure it would leave him bleeding. His gut rolled, lurching forward and threatening to expel the delicious pancakes he’d had for breakfast. 

He swallowed and tried to defend himself, “I-”

“Do  _ not, _ ” Pathonia growled, “I do  _ not  _ want to hear it. I gave you leniency, did I not? I gave you time to sort yourself out and get your feelings for VanCleef in order.  And yet you  _ insist _ on disobeying and disrespecting me . Enough is enough, Agent. You need to face up to what’s happening, right now. I am tired of this, your job is to Stormwind and VanCleef has made Stormwind his enemy, your path should be clear to you.”

Mathias flinched and took an unconscious step back from her desk in an effort to escape the anger radiating out in spirals, it was so thick he could barely breathe. “ Spymaster, I -” 

“Do. Not.” She raised a spindly finger at him and pursed her lips, easily shutting him down. “I am headed up to the Keep today, and _ you _ will be joining me. If I hear one complaint, then I will personally make sure you regret it. We are going to sit in on the meeting of Nobles, and  _ you _ are going to start behaving like the  _ future spymaster of the Alliance _ .”

“Yes, Spymaster,” Mathias replied quietly.

“Get out of my sight, but don’t go far.”

Mathias was glad to get out of her office, even if it was only a brief reprieve to his fate. The other agents in the stairway watched him silently as he  made his walk of shame with his head held low, and his tail between his legs. Verbally beaten into submission . A gain. 

Mathias stepped into his  own office and closed the  door, something he never did  unless he wanted privacy for a meeting . He could still feel Pathonia’s anger radiating through the wall that separated them, like a bitterly cold wind on a freezing cold winter’s morning. Mathias dropped heavily into his chair and released a slow, shaky breath . Even with the desk and the door acting as a barrier, he felt no better. 

He really had fucked up. Pathonia  _ never  _ called him ‘Agent’, even when introducing him he was ‘ _ Mathias _ ’ or occasionally ‘ _ my grandson _ ’.  Even  ‘ _ Agent Shaw _ ’ would have been  bad, but still preferable. To strip  away his surname, the name he shared with her... _ that _ was a weaponised attack on his place within SI:7. One that Mathias knew was well deserved. His path should have been clear, that much she was right about, but no matter how much he tried, Mathias couldn’t push aside his feelings towards his best friend.

If it had just been Pathonia’s anger, then Mathias  c ould have weathered the storm,  but it hadn’t been . And what cu t deeper was the disappointment h e had seen in W altion’s eyes. All his life, Waltion had been a supportive figure, a pillar of strength and kind words. Where Pathonia had taught him weapon skills and the physical aspects of being a good spy, it had been Waltion who taught him that his mind was just as good of a weapon as a pair of sharpened daggers. 

It had been Waltion who had taught him to enjoy the political web and how to play it for his own advantage. Every scandal up at the Keep became something for them to discuss over dinner, as Waltion asked how he would deal with it, and offered suggestions of ways to do it better. They both denied that they enjoyed the drama, but secretly reveled in it. Waltion had taught with a gentle touch, so unlike Pathonia’s, and molded him into something deadlier than a pure assassin. 

Waltion’s lessons had been a great advantage with Nathanos. The san’layn was stubborn and arrogant. Without those lessons, navigating the minefield would have been a far more daunting task. The verbal sparring had been like a dance as they worked each other out, testing for weaknesses. It had been enjoyable, even if Nathanos had made him angry on  one t oo many occasions. 

Mathias splayed his hands out on the desk and dropped his head with a thunk, using the cold wood t o help soothe his impending headache. Right now, he felt trapped in the middle of a duel without a weapon.

He tried to put Nathanos in his shoes and think about how he would deal with this situation. Waltion would like him, no doubt about that, the man lived for a verbal battle and Nathanos would be one of the best. Pathonia however...well she definitely wouldn’t like him, she didn’t like anyone who stood up to her. Nathanos would probably like her though, treating her like a nut to crack, and enjoying the  process of tying her up in a web of her own words. 

It was a shame  that they would never meet. 

\-----

Pathonia came for Mathias at  1 p.m., exactly f orty-two minutes after she’d sent him away. Together, they made their way out  onto Stormwind’s streets. It was a blazing hot day, with sun and clear skies, but the air around the two was icy cold. Unlike Mathias, people cleared the way for Pathonia; it was a skill she had mastered, making people uncomfortable in her presence without saying a word. Mathias followed on auto-pilot, wishing that the  following few hours were already over. 

From the busy streets, they turned into the Keep’s entrance, and headed up the wide, sweeping staircase. It was like walking into another world, all bright white stone, everything draped in rich blue and gold, the colours of Stormwind.

Mathias could smell incense burning in the throne room, the earthy sweet scent of magebloom and sandalwood  masking the smell of the outside world. How strange, he thought to himself, that the busy civilian market  place was only a  wall’s depth away, yet he could barely hear them. It was almost as if the Keep was its own secluded world.

They didn’t head up to the throne room,  instead,  made a left turn into the Hall of Nobles. Mathias tried to leave his feelings at the door, but they followed him in regardless, leaving him sick to his stomach as he faced the people he was most angry with. Mathias cast his eye around the room, wiping the anger off his face, schooling it into neutrality.

He knew some of the nobles from his time with Waltion, he’d even had dinner with the families of two of them. Even now, there wasn’t one noble in the room who looked like they understood, or could even grasp the difficulties of the world outside of their snobby little bubble. There was more silk sitting around the oak table than at the tailoring shop, and more gem encrusted rings than a jewelcrafter could make in a year. Only a handful of the nobles that Mathias could see were under sixty, and the few that were looked even more arrogant and haughty. 

Mathias followed Pathonia as she greeted each of the men, and politely introduced himself to the nobles he hadn’t met before. He shook more hands and forced more smiles in that fifteen minutes than he had in his entire life. 

Talk very quickly turned to the topic at hand, the Stonemasons and Edwin VanCleef. They said his name with such hatred that Mathias had to force himself to remain silent. The words he longed to shout were swirling around his mind at sickening speed, making him dizzy and irritable to the shallow chatter. Pathonia gestured to a seat at the end of the table, one reserved for guests in the Hall. Mathias sat, back ramrod straight as Pathonia took the seat next to him.

Just like Pathonia had ordered, he behaved, and remained quiet, stone-faced as he listened to the rampant lies and excuses spat around the table. He grit his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache. Fifteen minutes later, and the clenching had given Mathias the headache he'd known was coming since his meeting with Waltion just after breakfast.

As subtly as he could, he reached up to massage his temples, seeking a small moment of relief f rom the pressure . A movement that Pathonia met with a frown as she shook her head disapprovingly. Her icy glare was enough of a warning, and  Mathias dropped his hands back to the table. 

“The Stonemason’s are threatening a riot.” An older  nobleman said, dressed in the embroidered silks of a man who had never known a bank account under five figures. 

_ ‘Ridgewell’, _ Mathias thought, or was that the other old noble on the other side of the table? Wilkes, maybe? No that was the black haired eighteen year old  whose face knew only smug smiles. Javik? Maybe..?

“Lord Hollywell,” another noble Mathias couldn’t name said, “let them try. What is the worst they can do? There are so few of them, any actions they take will be met with the full force of the Stormwind Guard.” 

“They are nothing but talk, their demands are petty and their blustering is nothing but hot air. Any attempt to form a protest will end in arrests and they know that. They fear us more than we fear them.” 

Mathias  hid  his hands under the thick wooden table and fisted them against his thighs. His short nails bit into the flesh of his palms,  though  the pain was merely a dull ache against the sharp pain in his chest. Pathonia would never forgive him for shouting that Edwin deserved better, he needed the pain to focus on staying quiet. 

The voices in the room blurred out, much like his vision, as he distanced himself from the moment and slipped into happy memories of childhood . Memories of playing with Edwin and teaching him how to walk  along the rooftops safely, teaching him to pick locks and set traps. They had been inseparable, one causing trouble and the other cleaning up the mess. It had been Edwin who brought him a cake on his thirteenth birthday, when Pathonia was too busy working. It had been a chocolate monstrosity, probably paid for with treasures  from  a few picked pockets. Between the two of them, they devoured the whole thing in an hour. Then spent the  following  hour throwing up. Mathias hadn’t liked the taste of chocolate after that. 

There was one warm, autumn afternoon that Mathias remembered  distinctly , probably because the scar was still there on his hand, easily visible without gloves to hide it. They had decided to go fishing off the Stormwind docks, with dreams of catching a  large  fish, and cooking it over a campfire. Mathias couldn’t remember where the rods had come from, but they didn’t catch anything anyway. Mathias had reeled in to re-bait his hook, and as he tried to thread a slippery, squirming worm, he had hooked the web of skin between thumb and forefinger.

The barb caught deep in the skin, clean through the webbing and poking out the other side. There had been so much blood, Edwin looked pale, crying out in sympathy pain as Mathias stared at it, his face as white as a freshly bleached sheet. There was pain, enough to make Mathias sick with it, but he didn’t think twice before he took a deep breath, grit his teeth and wrenched the hook free. He felt lightheaded as he sucked the wound to try and ease the pain that made his entire arm ache. “Mat! Didn’t that hurt!?” Edwin had asked, his voice shuddering. Mathias nodded and tasted the bitter blood on his tongue. He hadn’t thought twice about needing to remove the hook or how much that would hurt, up until that point it had never occurred to him that his ability to take pain silently wasn’t normal. 

Much like now, surrounded by the cruel words directed at his best friend, Mathias suffered in silence. Each word a barbed hook sinking deeper into his heart. 

“VanCleef is a hot-head,” Pathonia said without emotion, “I had hoped a future in SI:7 would temper him, and so I allowed Mathias to train him. However, he is unpredictable at best and careless at worst. He follows his heart over his head, and will never back down when he thinks he has been wronged. This was my mistake, and unfortunately he’s now equipped with all the skills to make him a formidable opponent.” 

Mathias bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood. Even the metallic taste couldn’t overpower the feeling of betrayal at Pathonia’s words. While it was true it had taken some hard work to convince her that Edwin would be a boon to them, she had agreed, and even said that with the right training he would be an asset.

The heavy door swung open and footsteps echoed in the room. “Oh you’ve begun already? My apologies, I thought we were due to start at two-thirty.” 

Mathias knew that voice. He turned as casually as he could to look over his shoulder, and his stomach flipped. All the emotions of the day so far and now _this_. Dressed in a finely tailored tunic of black, heavily embroidered gold, and cinched at the waist by a leather belt, looking every inch the Stormwind Noble, stood _Penn_.

“Ah, Lord Marris, you’re here at last. Do take a seat, we have of course been discussing our little problem.” 

Marris? Mathias frowned at Penn, who smiled warmly at him on the surface, but he got the  underlying  message loud and clear - ‘later’. Mathias pushed down any reaction, masking it with a schooled facade that gave nothing away. Damn right they’d speak later, what was Penn even doing there? Why was he ‘Marris’? Why was he out during the day?

“Ah yes, the ‘ _ little _ ’ problem of upcoming rebellion.” Penn smiled, disarmingly charming despite the scathing way he spoke as he crossed the room to take his seat. He sat with his hands laced together on the smooth oak, his back straight and head held high, every part the well-bred noble. “Perhaps you should have taken my father’s advice and paid them. Then our ‘little problem’ wouldn’t exist.” 

Mathias watched Penn closely, his face neutral to mask the shock, and disbelief, of seeing the san’layn _ here _ , and  talking so brazenly . Every time he had met Nathanos it had been dark, either after sunset or in the middle of the night. He’d assumed - and could hear Nathanos calling him an idiot for doing so - that the books had been right, and that the San’layn could be killed by sunlight. Yet here was Penn, on a cloudless summer day, in the middle of the afternoon, walking around like any  regular  human. 

“I am sorry that you think securing our borders is a waste of gold,” Lord Tyrellin replied just as sharply. His disdain  was obvious.

“On the contrary,” Penn frowned, “I think that’s an excellent use of gold. However, you made a promise you knew you would not keep. You could have ordered Stormwind repaired to a liveable standard. It wouldn’t have been pretty, but the rest could have waited until there was more gold in the coffers. Stormwind doesn’t need to look beautiful to function correctly. Instead, you ordered them to work with a promise of payment, ordering statues and decorative  frippery that you had no intention of paying them for. They have every right to be angry. You used them.” 

Count Erlgadin nodded towards Penn, then looked to the head of the table, where Lord Hollywell sat. The old man had a face that could curdle milk, and a personality so sour, he made lemons look sweet. Count Erlgadin wasn’t phased, “There are many at this table who disagree with how things were handled, and thus stand against the majority of the House. My son and I have worked tirelessly to improve working conditions for the Stonemasons, and I count many of them as friends. We, as well as Lord Marris and Lord Russell, are displeased at the actions of the house and how they reflect on our royal King and Queen.”

“There is no place for friendship in business,” Lord Tyrellin replied stiffly, “Stormwind needed to be repaired and we had the manpower to do so. We took a vote, the majority sided with putting the Stonemasons to work.” 

“They were willing to work until you told them they would be doing so for free,” Penn growled. For a brief second Mathias thought he saw those brown eyes flicker red, bu t dismissed it as a trick of the light. 

“Lord Marris, please,” Count Erlgadin interrupted, “I feel your anger, justifiable as it is, but throwing that anger around will do us no good now. What’s done is done and we need to try and fix the rift before we lose our  finest  guild. We have made our stance known. Let us try and come to an agreement.”

Penn took a deep breath and tapped his fingers against the table, backing down only because the older gentleman with the shock  of thick,  white hair was one of the few nobles he - and Nathanos - respected. “Very well, Count Elgardin, I accept your truth.” 

The meeting was suddenly far more interesting than Mathias could have imagined it being and, as much as he’d hated the idea of sitting in, he was glad to have done so. Learning that he’d been wrong, and there was a rift in the House of Nobles was pleasing. Penn was actively picking at the seam, placing the blame squarely on Lord Hollywell’s shoulders, while turning the other nobles to his side. 

Penn was the last person he’d expected to see here, but watching him work was fascinating. It seemed Penn had been in his seat for a long time, and had the respect - or hatred - of everyone at the table. Nathanos had no doubt taught him, Penn spoke with the same articulation and eloquence, forceful but not reaching the same level of arrogance that Nathanos displayed. He spoke his mind in a clear way, but was stubborn enough not to let the older man bully him into submission. It made sense that Nathanos would have a man on the inside of Stormwind’s power house, he did like to know what was happening in  _ his _ city afterall. 

Sitting and listening as Penn ran circles around the nobility, Mathias felt strangely proud. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, but in that moment decided that he liked Penn and what he stood for. If he was ever in trouble, he’d want Penn on his side.

“We could just disband the Stonemason Guild,” Lord Hollywell suggested. 

Mathias froze. He knew immediately that it was a bad idea, and would be met with both anger and more force. Edwin would not take that lying down and would, without a doubt, retaliate. 

“That is not wise,” Count Erlgadin replied quickly, “it will be taken as an attack, which it is, to strip them of any power they have left. They will rally behind VanCleef and call out this injustice.”

“VanCleef will not take that quietly," Penn added, a tic of his eye the only outward show of annoyance, his voice remained calm but forceful, "VanCleef is a man of honour and this is an insult to him and his guild. They will reform, unofficially, under a new banner and keep fighting. You underestimate both his intelligence and heart, this is an injustice and you are well aware of how he reacts to that. Why would you give him more fuel for his fire?”

“No,” Lord Hollywell said, with sickening confidence, “they will be powerless. They will have no guild to hide behind, and any new formation can be dealt with by arresting the ringleaders.” 

“It could work,” an older man  piped up . Mathias couldn’t name him, not that he cared, “with how things stand at the moment, the Stonemasons believe they have some power here. If they are stripped of that, they have nothing to fall back on.”

Penn turned to Pathonia,  subtly shaking hi s head at Mathias to stay quiet, “Spymaster, your thoughts? You know VanCleef personally, how would he react?”

Mathias grit his teeth, itching to say exactly what was on his mind. No one knew Edwin better than him, so why was Penn directing his question at Pathonia? ‘ _ To keep you a neutral party’ _ , his mind told him, _ ‘to remain an unknown entity to these nobles’. _

Pathonia was quiet as all eyes turned to  her, her lips a tight line as she thought. “I do not believe this is the best course of action. However, I cannot think of a better plan of attack at the moment. I have  already sent out my thoughts on this matter, and all have been rejected. Allow me to think about it tonight and return in the morning. There are many variables that need to be taken into consideration.” 

“Very well,” Hollywell said as he stood, “we shall meet back tomorrow and consider the Spymaster’s proposal. You are dismissed . We will reconvene at nine a.m.”

The nobles agreed and started talking amongst themselves, as they collected their  belongings and started to make their way out. Pathonia seemed to have forgotten she had ordered Mathias to attend with her as she followed the nobles out, her brow  furrowed, pensive in thought. 

Mathias hadn’t moved and was still staring at Penn, who had made no move to leave yet. Once the room had emptied, he stood and stopped by Mathias’ chair, “Shall we get you  some lunch? I know a nice quiet place.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“Lunch?” Penn asked again. 

“Will you talk?” Mathias asked, eyeing Penn carefully, still unsure what to make of the situation, “about everything?” 

Penn shrugged, “Sure. At least, I’ll tell you what I can . B ut not here. Hollywell has ears and eyes everywhere , h e’s a snake.”

\-----

The caf é Penn picked was in the Mage District and w as, as promised, very qui et. There was only one other person in the seating area, and she seemed so deep in her spell book that she likely wouldn’t pay any attention to them. They took a table as far away from her as possible anyway. 

“Where do you want to start?” Penn asked, once Mathias had his food. 

“What are you doing there is a good start, I think.” 

“Right,” Penn picked at a slice of pie he had no intentions of eating . He had only bought it for appearance's sake. “It’s my job. Nathanos likes to know everything that’s happening, and that includes within the human nobility, especially so now with the formation of the Alliance. Having someone in the House of Nobles is invaluable to him, and I’m  _ very _ good at what I do. You didn’t think Nathanos kept me around just because I’m a pretty face, did you?” 

“ I...  never really thought about what purpose you served, other than knowing he was fond enough of you to risk my life.” Just how fond of each other were they? Had he overstepped into something by kissing Nathano s? If so , why hadn’t he been pushed away? There were questions he needed to ask, ones he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to o. H ow to ask them ,  though...

“I’ve been with him for a hundred and forty three years, if he wasn’t fond of me by now, then I’d have a problem.” 

Mathias paused his fork, looking over at Penn curiously. His freckled face gave him the impression of being younger than he was, and the soft, youthful features didn’t help. At most, Mathias would have put him at twenty-five, but that was pushing it. “You’re really that old? You look as old as I am.”

Penn nodded and smiled, his face lighting up, “Yeah, and I’m not even that old for a san’layn. Nathanos is a lot older, thousands of years older, than I am. His sire is probably twice Nathanos’ age and her sire...well you get my point. Being immortal has its perks.” 

“Apparently so,” Mathias replied. It was easier to talk to Penn than it was to Nathanos, the  young san’layn oozed friendliness and charm . He was  an open book compared to Nathanos’ secrecy. “Just so I have this right, Nathanos got you a seat in the house of nobles so you can spy for him? How does that work, when you don’t age?”

“Glamours mostly,” Penn shrugged, “there’s anti-magic wards up at the Keep that stop anyone using full body glamours to completely change their appearance, just in case someone decided to disguise themselves as a royal and cause trouble. Minor glamours though, they tend to get a pass, just for the nobles who use them to hide the grey hairs or a few wrinkles - or in my case, add them on.” 

“I knew about the anti-magic wards, but I thought they covered all glamours?”

Penn laughed, “No. The nobles would kick up a fuss if they did, they’re a vain lot. Nathanos was actually in my seat before me, and introduced me as his son so he could pass the seat on. That’s why I go by his surname and not my own. From then on, I just use glamours to age, and pass the seat on to myself when I can’t age any more without the wards catching me out.” 

“His surname? So he’s Nathano s... Marris?” 

“Yes,” Penn nodded, paused, then shook his head, “no...he used to be, but he isn’t any more. His surname is now the name of his Court, Blightcaller. Marris is redundant, and a name he doesn’t care for. It’s a reminder of his life and he doesn’t like thinking about the fact he was ever alive.”

Mathias tucked that information away for later, already planning on digging up the oldest Stormwind records to see if there was a mention of him. He’d check Penn out too while he was at it. “But you’re not Blightcaller? You introduced yourself to me as ...Pennville ?” 

Penn stabbed a fork into the apple pie and slowly dissected it, as clinically as a medical autopsy. “No,” he said quietly, “like I said before, it’s complicated and not something I wish to get into with you yet. San’layn politics  are  a web of cruel laws and strict castes, far worse than anything humans have come up with yet. Even if I could take the name, I’m not sure I would want to, and I’m not sure he would want me to when he says it’s my humanity that makes me special.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mathias told him. 

Penn sat, stabbing at his pie as he shrugged, it was thoroughly dissected now with the apple pushed to the left of the plate, and the crust to the right. “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter, I’m happy where I am althoug h... I wish some things were different.” 

Mathias felt like he needed to change the topic before they headed down a path neither of them wanted to talk about. “Why did Nathanos leave the seat for you? I get the feeling he’s a man who doesn’t like not being in charge.” 

“He doesn’t, but he also trusts me, and I know what he wants,” Penn replied and pushed his plate away, “he’d still be there if he could, or maybe we’d alternate who sat so it needed less glamours. The problem is that the House sits during the day and he struggles with the sunlight a lot more than I do.”

“So sunlight does hurt you?” Mathias asked, pleased that at least some of his research had been accurate. 

“It isn’t pleasant, no. It doesn’t kill us, but it weakens and it hurts, we’re tied to the night. It’s worse for Nathanos because he’s a lot more san’layn than I am, he can’t bear it as long. It also makes him weak and powerless, and if there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s that.”

“So there’s different types of san’layn?” Mathias asked.

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how it works though. All I know is that the ones who look like Nathanos don’t  much like the ones who look like me.”

“It seems very...cold.”

Penn shrugged, “No different than the Nobles thinking they’re above the common civilians. It’s a universal thing, that people in power are  _ not like _ the people they rule over.”

“Still seems cold.”

“Sure it is,” Penn agreed, “but I’ll tell you what Nathanos told me when he handed me the seat, ‘ _ don’t forget who you serve’ _ . We all serve Stormwind, not the royals or the nobles. It’s our place to protect the people and not forget about them.”

“That’s what Pathonia says too.” 

“Well yeah,” Penn laughed, “she’s smart. A scary woman, absolutely terrifying, but definitely smart.” 

“You know her well then? Does Nathanos?”

“I know her well enough, she sits in on the meetings whenever we’re passing something that interests her. I know Waltion a lot better, he’s always got the best gossip, even if getting it out of him is like cracking a complex lock. Nice guy though.”

“He is,” Mathias agreed and could easily imagine Waltion teasing gossip through warm smiles. He took a few sips of his tea, finding it was surprisingly cold, how long had they been talking? “I still can’t believe you were there. You’re the last person I would have expected to walk into the House of Nobles. Well...second to last, Nathanos would be my first.” 

Penn had picked up his fork again and pulled his plate close. He paused, fork mid-apple push. He looked amused, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his soft lips, “Why? Nathanos told you that he has an interest in protecting Stormwind. This is his city, he’s been here since it was nothing but a mud hut village.”

“Oh...so that’s why he calls it ‘his’ city,” Mathias mused, “I just never assumed he was that deep into Stormwind politics. Are there other san’layn here apart from you two?” 

“No of course not,” Penn looked offended, “a few have tried but this is Nathanos’ territory, and very few are stupid enough to try and challenge him for it. Any who set foot on his land are...dispatched. Quickly.”

“It doesn’t happen often then?”

“More than he’d like, but then he doesn’t like much.” 

“Right,” Mathias replied, “so he protects it because it’s prime san’layn hunting grounds?”

“No,” Penn cocked his head, “he protects it because it’s his and he’s territorial as a rabid wolf . Don’t tell me you haven’t figured out yet ? That he’s very  possessive?”

“I had an idea of that, yes.” Mathias couldn’t say he knew Nathanos well, but he did know he was arrogant, haughty and  _ absolutely  _ the most possessive man he’d ever met. 

Penn laughed, “I heard you kissed him. He was kinda put out that you made the first move, spent the evening torn between being grumpy and pleased.” 

Mathias froze, the colour draining from his face as he nodded meekly, “I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?” Penn looked puzzled. 

“I didn’t know he was  with you. Dating yo u.” 

_ “Dating? _ ” Penn laughed, “even I think that’s an overly human thing, although I’ve probably been around Nathanos too long in that regard.” 

Mathias cocked his head, confused and a little put out. “I don’t understand.” 

“Hmm,” Penn rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand, “well, I’m not sure this is a conversation you should be having with me. He’s the one courting you, and he is the master of his court.” 

“I won’t get any answers from him,” Mathias frowned, “he’s very good at being vague , answering questions in a way that makes you  _ think _ he’s answered them.”

“Oh I know,” Penn snorted a laugh, “he’s far too good at that. Keeps certain people at a distance, while still making them think they’re involved. Stick around for long enough and you’ll see for yourself.” 

Mathias finished his food and pushed his plate away, taking a sip of his cold tea just for something to do with his hands. “So you’ re not dating?” He finally asked, “and you’re not mad? I didn’t know you were together, he didn’t say anything.”

Penn groaned. Nathanos would take his answer in one of two ways; either he’d be mad that Penn overstepped, or he’d be pleased that it was a conversation he didn’t need to have himself. There was a  fifty-fifty  chance of both being correct, depending on Nathanos’ mood when he found out. “We aren’t dating, at least not in any way you, as a human, would consider it dating. San’layn courts are like…” His shoulders sagged, “it’s like...can’t you  _ please _ go and talk to Nathanos?”

“No,” Mathias smiled. Some deep down part of him enjoyed watching Penn squirm after the hell Nathanos had put him through. 

Penn huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, idly toying with his ponytail nervously, “do you remember when King- No, wait you wouldn’t have been born for a few decades.” He averted his eyes to the table, glaring at his deconstructed apple pie as if that held the answers, “San’layn courts are like...there’s a Lord or Lady, then their... childe under them. Kinda like consorts I guess? Kind of like when your king takes a consort and it’s an accepted thing? It’s  no that much different from that but...the only rule is you don’t sleep down the caste ranks, only higher... or equal.” Penn shifted uncomfortably, finding a split end on a strand of hair that suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. 

“This really makes you uncomfortable doesn’t it?” Mathias asked, “why? Isn’t it your world too?”

“Yes, it does. This isn’t my place to talk about, and I’m lucky Nathanos probably won’t get angry over my talking about it. It is my world, but my creation means I have no rights in it. Imagine that... Nathanos is your king, and I am a beggar on the streets, that’s the power difference between us. It is only because he is fond of me, and that his sire doesn’t know I exist, that I am not dead for being an abomination. This is the talk Nathanos should be giving you, not me.” 

“Ok,” Mathias replied and let the topic drop, Penn looked distressed enough, “so you don’t mind?” 

“Of course not, I can’t tell you how rare it is that he takes an interest in a human. That isn’t something he does. Ever.” 

“You think highly of him?”

“Of course,” Penn cocked his head, “he saved my life, gave me a home, and he cares for me more than anyone else has since I was a _ child _ . I would give everything for him, and I know he would do the same for me.” 

Mathias sipped at his drink, “I like him. I know I shouldn’t but I do.” 

“Why shouldn’t you?” 

“Because I’m a human and he’s...not. He hunts us  for food, he calls us cattle, he doesn’t value  our lives.”

Penn shrugged and leaned back in his chair, "I've never seen him harm anyone who he considers innocent. He weeds out the bad people in your world, is that not what you do? You would not let any dangers roam Stormwind either, the same way he will not let them roam his lands. All those orcs who died in Stormwind when they attacked, do you think your people killed them all? They did not, he was there, at the front line of the chaos. Just because you didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” 

Mathias hadn’t considered that, and wasn’t sure about how it made him feel. On the one hand a supernatural protector was nice, but on the other, did Nathanos believe they were too weak to protect themselves? Did it matter when Nathanos had saved lives that day?

“But he doesn’t value life?”

Penn chuckled, “he doesn’t but he ... does ? Stormwind is his, everyone in it is his. If people are dying to an outside force that isn’t him, he’s going to fight, just because he’s possessive and people are touching his things.” 

“What about me?” 

“You he just likes,” Penn replied, “and I can see why. Very few people have ever stood up to him, and no one but his sire makes demands of him. You’re a curiosity, something he doesn’t quite understand ye t. Y ou’re interesting to him, and Nathanos collects curiosities.”

“Like you?”

Penn smiled, “Yes. I am a curiosity, and I’m useful, both things he likes.” 

Mathias’ attention was pulled from Penn and their conversation as the entire city seemed to erupt at  once . A great scream ripped from the very heart of Stormwind, a cry of anguish so loud it chilled Mathias to the marrow. A thousand voices screaming in unison.

Both men jumped up from the table and ran outside, the sun was low in the sky but still spilled its warmth over the city that  suddenly  felt deathly cold. No one in the mage district knew what was happening, everyone had congregated outside their shops, whispering amongst themselves. “I’m going to find Nathanos,” Penn said and didn’t wait for an answer before he was gone, racing through the crowd  with preternatural speed. 

Mathias watched him only for a brief second then made his own way out through the crowds, shouting at the knots of people to let him pass. Something was very wrong, he could feel it gnawing at his stomach. He raced over the bridge spanning the canals, and immediately took to the rooftops, a route he’d taken a hundred times before to traverse the Trade District faster. The crowd below screamed like an angry tide. 

His first instinct was to head straight into the middle of the disturbance and see what he could do, but that would take too much time. SI:7 was closer and probably knew more. His feet barely touched the tiles as Mathias ran, leaping over the gaps between houses, over the wailing waves of the crowds crashing forward like breakwater. 

SI:7 was no better, with agents mobilising into units and running out to quell the riots. Mathias could see Pathonia in the courtyard, dealing out orders with an authoritative calmness. He’d always admired her ability to remain calm, even in the most dire of situations. 

“What’s happening?” He called as he got close to her. 

“A riot has broken out,” she replied tersely, and Mathias could see she wasn’t as collected as he’d first thought. Anger brewed under her calm exterior, this time, not directed at her grandson. “Lord Hollywell has  disbanded the Stonemason’s guild.” 

“What? Why? I thought he was waiting for a vote tomorrow morning?

Pathonia hummed, a disgusted little noise that bared more of her emotions on the matter than she would have liked. “As did I. It seems he has taken matters into his own hands. Wait here a moment.” She turned her attention on two agents who had just arrived, breathing heavily from their run, Kearnen and Matthews, “any news?”

Amber Kearnan nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she tried to compose herself. “It’s Queen Tiffin, Spymaster,” her voice shook as she tried to speak, her emotions etched painfully on her face, “she’s dead.”


	8. Pricks and Princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @trollsweat for editing this so I can post something new for the new year.

Blue and gold bunting,  that had been  hung between the buildings for Anduin’s birth, fluttered in the cool evening air. Stormwind’s citizens wailed underneath it,  crying for their lost Queen. The juxtaposition left Mathias reeling, as guilt curdled in his stomach like spoiled milk; a sickening, sour mix of emotions that left him choking on his own tongue. 

_ ‘This is your fault’ _ , his heart  screamed ,  _ ‘you should have pushed harder to see Edwin and talk him around’ _ . If only he had, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all. Maybe then, he could have talked some sense into him. Maybe none of this would have happened if he’d been a better friend.

The truth was that he’d failed as a friend, and as a protector of Stormwind. His fear of angering Edwin , and losing the friendship he held so dearly , had stopped him doing what needed to be done. He had let this happen and Pathonia was right .  His path had been clouded and Queen Tiffin had paid the price. That knowledge only made him feel worse. 

The sound of a city sobbing in grief was his reward for his unwillingness to act. 

Stormwind , however, had acted swiftly. Between the guards and SI:7 agents , the riot only lasted a few hours ,  and  most arrests had been made. The original instigator ,  and murderer of Queen Tiffin, now sat chained in the stockades with a handful of his co-conspirators, no doubt to face the hangman’s noose after a quick trial. 

Edwin had not been caught, yet, and Mathias was unsure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he had led a rebellion that caused the death of a monarch . O n the other, his anger was justified, he had only wanted fair payment for work completed. 

Mathias  glanced around as he walked the city,  keeping an eye out  for  anyone  trying to escape the mass arrest by hiding. Every building, every gently arched bridge and tunne l,  bore Edwin’s signature . H e had rebuilt the city from the ground up into something breathtakingly beautiful. Any city would want a man like Edwin in  charge of their Stonemasons , but the Nobles had been quick to discard him. 

Beneath the labour of Edwin’s men, Stormwind was a city in crisis. 

There were measures in place to deal with emergencies, and all agents knew the drill. There was a map o f the city in  Pathonia’s office that had been divided into a grid,  with an agent assigned to each section.  Without even needing to be ordered , the whole of SI:7 moved ou t, carefully combing Stormwind for Stonemasons trying to hide from the purge of their guild. 

Mathias was glad  that his  assigned section wasn’t  near  the Keep, but  it did  encompass the marketplace , Stockades, and a small sect ion of the mage district.  The trade off was not having to witness the civilians sobbing at the Keep. Instead he had to watch as Stonemasons he knew were taken into the stockade, men and women he could name, and had spent evenings drinking with. Innocent people caught up in something cruel.

Mathias took himself down the small backroads and alleyways, questioning what he would do if he found any Stonemasons , t hough he highly doubted any would be stupid enough to hide out so close to the Stockade. Just as he was about to turn back towards the market, a pamphlet blew across the street and snagged against the curb, where it fluttered almost angrily. Mathias bent down to pick it up, smoothing out the torn corner gently.

It was one of the mass printed announcements of Anduin’s birth.

The paper was dirty and discoloured from its travels through Stormwind, torn in places and wet in others, bleeding the ink of Anduin’s name. A dirty boot print covered half of the artist’s rendition of Anduin in his crib, probably made in the stampede following Tiffin’s death. Gently, Mathias ran his fingers over the paper, brushing away the loose dirt, to clean it as best he could. 

Mathias felt for the young prince, his heart aching fo r the child, who could not yet understand what he had lost. Grieving for  someone  you’d never known was a grief like no other; there were no happy memories, no soft words, or the  thought of them saying they were proud . Instead,  the grief was to spend countless hours wondering what they had been  like, if they  _ would  _ have been proud. It was to mourn a life that could have been, and to forever wonder how different it would be,  if they had lived and loved. 

Poor Prince Anduin, he was only a few weeks old and his life had already changed for the worse. Anduin, who would now grow up without a mother, just as Mathias had. At least the Prince still had his father. 

Mathias carefully folded the brittle paper and slipped it into a pocket. It would forever serve as a reminder never to sit on the fence again, and to make a stand when he needed to. It would also remind him to take care of the Prince, until he was old enough to do so himself. No matter what else came out of this tragedy, Mathias made a silent promise to be a supportive figure in Anduin’s life, much like Waltion had been to him. 

Feeling like he had gained s ome focus, Mathias gave his area one final check over and, unsurprisingly, found it empty save for two stray cats, who watched him with sharp, golden eyes. Maybe there was some light at the end of this tunnel, and the hope  that  the current situation wouldn’t last forever. 

The streets  were still lined with mourners as Mathias made his way towards the Keep, but thankfully less than there had been  before . Most of them had likely been cleared out by the Stormwind Guards and SI:7 agents, to make tracking down the remaining Stonemasons easier. 

Mathias played his part to help, ushering away as many people as he could from the Keep’s closed gates. A black flag blew forlornly atop the highest tower, a sight Mathias had never seen himself but one that felt terribly wrong so he tried not to look at it again. He kept a keen ear open for whispers of Edwin, from both the Stormwind guard and SI:7 agents. So far there had been no news of his capture and for that, even after everything that happened, Mathias was horrified to feel thankful. Edwin would likely hang as a traitor to Stormwind if he was caught and Mathias would have to watch it happen. 

It couldn’t be said that Mathias was giving his full attention to his surroundings as he joined the Guard and  other SI:7 agents in ushering the wailing civilians away from the gate. He did his absolute best to block out the heartbreaking cries that sounded more like shrieking banshees than humans. If Mathias ever heard it again, then it would be too soon. But, forcing them to leave was as much to protect them as it was to protect Tiffin’s memory, and hide the bloodstained steps. Varian too would likely fare better without the noise of it under his window. 

Mathias held his arms outstretched and walked down the steps, telling the people to go to the safety of their homes. He almost missed the flash of silver to his left, and the sound of a blade scraping against a dry scabbard. Heavy footsteps, in steel toed boots, raced towards him. Mathias s aw it happen from the corner of his ey e, and was just in time to pull his own dagger, and deflect the blow that would have caught his throat.  _ Sloppy _ , he thought to himself, both of his own actions, and those of the attacker. 

The attacker, not put off by the first parry, came at Mathias again, slashing wildly with a short knife, better suited to cutting the rope wrappings on masonry than  fighting . Mathias unsheathed his second dagger and sidestepped the attack. The stonemason \- a big, strong man in the prime of his youth - was an easy foe, lumbering around without any finesse. Mathias would never call their  brief scuffle a _ ‘fight’ _ ; the other man was vastly outmatched, and it was  likely that he had picked Mathias as a target based on him being small er and younger  - what looked to be an  easy mark. Or, the man knew who he was and picked him  because of  Edwin. 

Rather than aim for the throat,  and a quick death, Mathias twisted out of the man’s attack and brought the pommel of his blade down on the base of his attacker’s skull with a sickening crack. The man dropped to the steps, unconscious, as two of Stormwind’s Guard ran towards them and hastily cuffed the man, which was  overkill in Mathias’ opinion. There was no way  the man  was getting up any time soon. There had been too much blood spilled already, and Mathias wouldn’t spill more . Although,  his small act of mercy would probably see the man hung only a few days later. 

At least the attack had sent the last stubborn civilians scurrying from the scene. Somehow, the lack of wailing sounded more eerie . A silence like no other descended on the steps, and Mathias felt a chill as he looked over his shoulder at the empty courtyard. It felt like months ago that Tiffin had stood where he was now, holding Anduin so carefully in her hands while Varian addressed the cheering crowd. 

“Agent Shaw.” 

Mathias turned his attention back  to the matter at hand. Agent Kearnen, an agent a few years younger than himself  ( and a few ranks lowe r), but showing incredible potential, met his tired gaze with her own red, puffy one. “The Spymaster asked us to send you to her if we saw you.” 

Mathias sheathed his blades and gave a curt nod, “Thank you, Agent.” 

He turned to leave, but the young woman stepped in front of him, “Mathias, wait ... I have news too, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Mathias raised an eyebrow at her, taking the deliberate use of his first name as a gesture that this was personal. “I am listening.”

Amber shifted on the balls of her feet, well aware of the protocol she was about to break, but it was no secret that Mathias and Edwin had been closer than family. “The Spymaster has already been informed , but Agents Grey and Willows saw VanCleef escape with a small group of his guild. They were headed towards Westfall on foot. Bazil Thredd, however, didn’t get so lucky, he’s in the Stockades with another nine of the guild. At least it was nine when I last heard.” 

Mathias wasn’t sure relief was supposed to feel so bad. Edwin had escaped but he’d only brought himself some time, Varian would send every soldier in Stormwind after him. “Only nine?” 

“The riots were bloody,” Amber said softly, “a lot of the stonemasons turned violent after the first  rock was thrown...Stormwind Guard reacted to the threat.” 

“I see,” Mathias replied stiffly, “thank you for the information, Amber.” 

Amber nodded, “I need to get back to my post. Take care.”

\----------------

Pathonia’s tired eyes met Mathias’ as he entered the SI:7 courtyard, “Good, you’re here.” 

Mathias’ breath caught in his throat; he had never seen his grandmother looking so dishevelled and worn down. A few thick strands of white hair had escaped her usually perfect bun, framing her pale face in a way that made her look softer. Mud and dirty water was splattered over her armor, with a few spots high enough to smear on the skin of her neck. Gone was the woman who always looked so stern and collected, in her place ... this was a woman who knew her business, and wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. 

“My sector is clear,” Mathias reported, “but I was attacked at the Keep, the offender has been taken into custody of the Stormwind Guard.” 

“Very good,” Pathonia replied, although her attention seemed to be elsewhere, Mathias couldn’t blame her for that. “A lot of needless deaths in the city tonight,” she sighed, “I feared it would come to this.”

“Far too many,” Mathias agreed, “but you warned Lord Hollywell that it was a bad idea.” 

“He’s no Lord, not anymore,” Pathonia hissed, uncharacteristically forward in her opinions, “good riddance to bad rubbish. King Varian stripped him of his title , and his seat , for lying and convincing them that the House of Nobles had voted in agreement.”

Shock spread over Mathias’ features, his eyes wide, “He really did that?”

Pathonia nodded, “It isn’t the first time he’s done underhanded things and abused his power, but this was the first time he did it in such a serious manner.” 

“No,” Mathias agreed, looking at his feet, where he was  using the toe of  one boot to scrape mud off the other. He’d heard stories from Waltion about Hollywell’s power grabbing, even witnessing it himself with how he’d manipulated a trade deal to benefit his own house. 

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Pathonia added like an afterthought, “he’s dead.” 

Mathias’ head snapped up, “what happened?” 

“Someone did Stormwind a favour,” she replied quietly so the other agents wouldn’t hear, “he was found in an alleyway close to his home, stabbed through the chest with a masonry chisel.” 

Mathias snorted,  quickly covering it with a cough, and avoided Pathonia’s glare by keeping his eyes on the other agents working around them. “Fitting way to go.” He’d put a year’s salary on Nathanos having something to do with that, if not doing the deed himself. “Is Waltion up at the Keep ? D oing damage control?” 

Pathonia nodded, “he’s got his work cut out for him. The King is...in a rage that can’t be calmed and he’s not an easy man to deal with at the best of times.” 

“What will happen to the House of Nobles?” Mathias asked, hoping his question came off with the same feigned interest it usually did when he spoke of the nobles. 

Pathonia raised an eyebrow at him, “in what way?”

“Will it be disbanded too? If Vari-… if _ King _ Varian, is that angry, doesn’t he blame all of them?” 

“No, he’s spoken to both myself and Waltion. I would hazard a guess that he’ll talk to the nobles himself tomorrow and get the full story, but he knows Hollywell acted of his own accord and that there were nobles against the idea of disbanding. Why the sudden interest?” 

Damn. Mathias had to think fast to come up with an answer that sounded plausible. “I was just curious about whether King Varian would seize the power of the house, so this couldn’t happen again.” 

“Of course he won’t,” Pathonia replied, looking between the gate and her pocket watch then tutting in annoyance. Mathias knew that look, someone was late and for once it wasn’t him. “The House of Nobles serves a purpose, not only to deal with the problems King Varian doesn’t have time for, but they keep the sitting Royal in check. Disbanding the house would serve no one in the long run, but I would think there will be a lot more restrictions going forward.” 

“I would imagine so,” Mathias agreed, it was ridiculous that this had happened in the first place, “who are you waiting for?” 

“The  agents with the damage report. I expected it half an hour ago, I wonder if they met with some trouble.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, things are pretty bad out there at the moment.” 

Pathonia fixed Mathias with an unreadable look, “yes, Mathias, I am aware.” 

It was another twenty minutes of awkward  conversation  before two agents came running into the courtyard with a rolled up parchment,  which they handed over to Pathonia. “Sorry, Spymaster, the Stockades are in a mess right now, and the healer clinics are overflowing.” 

“You’re dismissed,  return to y our duties,” Pathonia said as she turned away from them and unravelled the parchment, scanning the hastily written  body  counts quickly. “Come, Mathias.” 

Mathias obeyed and followed her into the headquarters, up to her office. Pathonia took her seat as she read through the report, “nine stonemasons dead. Thirteen stonemasons captured. Nineteen stonemasons unaccounted for. Three  _ civilians  _ dead, and  _ twenty-three _ civilians injured. VanCleef  un accounted for.” Her eyes darted to Mathias at that last part, judging his reaction. 

Mathias remained stoic, cursing the pool of relief that made his stomach drop. “I am sorry to hear that, Spymaster.” 

“Are you?” 

Offended, Mathias frowned. “I never wanted this, Pathonia,” Not ‘Spymaster’. Not even ‘grandmother’. Instead, her name, a personal dig at something he found insulting towards his own character. “He is - was - my friend. I _never_ wanted this for us _OR_ him. Even _you_ couldn’t see this happening so soon, so don’t turn on me as if I am thankful that the Queen is dead - or the civilians, or the stonemasons - just so Edwin could escape without repercussions. _He_ led the riot, not me.” 

Pathonia, although a little taken aback by the coldness in Mathias’ voice, didn’t bite. She could tell by the defensiveness in Mathias’ closed fists and rigid posture that he felt guilty enough already. “Take this as a harsh lesson, Mathias,” she said gently, picking her words carefully so they weren’t barbed, “you know what you can learn from i t. Do so. T he next time you’re forced into a situation where you need to pick a side, don’t wait until things are at their worst.” 

Mathias stiffened, all the emotions of the past few weeks like a storming maelstrom in his chest. “I’ll be sure to do so,” he managed through gritted teeth, “are we done here? I am filthy, tired and haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.” It had in fact only been nine hours since he’d had  his  late lunch with Penn, but that felt like days ago already.

“I ... ” Pathonia frowned, there would be no talking to Mathias in this mood, he took after his mother in that regard. She too had a bad habit of digging her feet in and getting defensive when offered critical advice. “I’m sending a team out at first light to find VanCleef, and report his position to the Stormwind guard. He will face justice for what he has done.” 

“Justice at the end of the hangman’s rope I would think,” Mathias snapped back, Varian would accept no less. “You know as well as I do that you won’t find him and, whether you like it or not, he was as good as any SI:7 agent. Edwin is long gone and so are his followers.” 

“I suspect you are correct,” Pathonia agreed much to Mathias’ surprise, “but the King will not stop until he has his head.” 

“I am aware,” Mathias replied. His body seemed to deflate as the horror of the day crept up on him and the emotions became so overwhelming he could barely hold himself together. “Am I excused for today?” 

There was a soft rustling of papers as Pathonia closed the file, and stacked it on top of the other active cases, “you are dismissed. Be aware that the King may wish to speak with you at some point tomorrow, he’s going to want you to tell him how to find VanCleef.” 

“I assumed he would,” Mathias replied tiredly, “good night, Spymaster.” 

Mathias wrapped his coat around himself as he stepped out into the dark streets. A chill wind was blowing in off the ocean and whistling down the streets, turning the drizzle of rain into sharp pins that stung his face. The young spy turned his collar up, and buried his face in it as he ran for home. 

There was an eerie silence over Stormwind that felt thick and oppressive, as if the city had died with its Queen. Mathias could hear nothing except the howling wind and the splashing of his boots through puddles in the cobbles. He cared little for staying silent when he just wanted to get home and put the day behind him as fast as possible. 

But, as soon as Mathias turned onto his street, he knew his night wasn’t done yet, a warm glow emanated from his living room window. Someone had lit a fire for him and he could guess who it was. 

The clock tower rang half past three as he opened his front door. He’d expected Nathanos, but the sight of Nathanos and Penn sitting in the comfortable chairs around his fireplace aggravated him. 

“Make yourselves at home why don’t you?” Mathias groused. Nathanos started to speak but Mathias cut him off, “I am cold and soaking wet, at least let me get changed before you start...whatever it is you’re about to start.” 

“Well, I  was going to ask if yo u were okay, but off you go.” Nathanos sneered and turned his gaze away from Mathias and back onto the fire. Penn said nothing, just kept his head bowed low, his face hidden behind his long bangs. 

Mathias didn’t respond and stalked towards his bedroom, sparing only a brief thought to Penn,  who was not acting like himself. That thought he shook away as fast as it came, what did he really know about Penn anyway? For all he knew, this was exactly what he was like. 

Mathias locked his bedroom door behind him and looked forlornly at his bed, with its soft mattress and thick, warm blankets, inviting pillows and promise of some real rest. It was almost tempting to undress and climb in, surely Nathanos would leave eventually...right? 

Although, unlike last time,, he could see Nathanos pounding on the door until he returned to whatever it was he wanted. Mathias sighed, better to get it over with quickly so he could kick them out. He peeled off his light armour and dumped it on the sideboard, it would need cleaning and oiling before the moisture rusted the rivets and buckles, but that could wait until tomorrow. The woolen under-garments were wet and itchy, chafing the inside of his legs and cutting uncomfortably into his balls.  He stripped them off and, scrunched up, they were thrown angrily into the corner as he made plans to buy himself some enchanted linen, that wouldn’t irritate his skin when they got wet. 

After toweling himself dry,, and redressing in some light linens suitable for sleeping, Mathias took a deep breath and walked out barefoot to face his visitors. 

“Is this going to be a regular thing, where you just turn up at my house uninvited?”

“Yes,” Nathanos replied, “unless you’d like us turning up at SI:7 instead? From what I know of Pathonia, she wouldn’t take that well. Waltion on the other hand...” 

Mathias sighed and dragged a chair over from the table, scraping it across the floor as he swung it into position by the fireplace. A  cup of tea would go down nicely, but that meant offering his visitors a drink and he wasn’t feeling very hospitable. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I thought you might want an update on your friend,” Nathanos replied, “Penn seems to think that he m atters to you, even though he’s a traitor to Stormwind.” 

Mathias looked to Penn who just shrugged and stared at the flickering flames, “I would want to know if it was my friend, that’s all.” 

“Is he alive?” Mathias asked, “you didn’t kill him did you?”

“No, he’s alive and he’s got himself quite the little army already,” Nathanos said as he drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair. “I imagine a scouting mission is being sent out tomorrow morning? Don’t send anyone you like, I highly doubt they will be coming back alive. Fascinating man that VanCleef, very resourceful.”

“Yes,” Mathias agreed sourly, “he is. We captured his second in command, he’s secure in the Stockades. My guess is that they’ll keep him as bait, and hope Edwin wants to come and rescue him.” 

Nathanos shook his head, “he won’t.” 

“What do you mean ‘he won’t’? Edwin values his friends,” Mathias snapped. 

“Like he valued you?” Nathanos replied with venom.

“Bazil Thredd is more useful to VanCleef where he is,” Penn interrupted, breaking up the fight before it could begin, “he’s a man on the inside. Granted being a prisoner isn’t the best place to have an informant, but Thredd will still be useful, both for information and organisation.“ 

“He’s under twenty-four hour armed guard, he isn’t going to be able to do anything,” Mathias replied confidently. 

Penn eyed the human carefully, “there are plenty of ways to communicate that don’t involve speaking or writing. Take it from someone who has been in Thredd’s position, I could still get messages out and Nathanos could still get messages to me. Don’t think an armed guard will stop him when VanCleef taught his officers everything you taught him. Or did you really think he’d keep useful information like that to himself?” 

Nathanos looked amused, his moustache quirking up at the corner, “if I was in your friend’s shoes - and I have been - Thredd is exactly where I would want him. You are, afterall, holding a man in the jail cells he helped to build, I can almost guarantee that there are secret doors, or  false bricks built into walls .” 

“Why would there be? The stockades were built before the Stonemasons had any problems with the Nobles.” 

“ _Because_ your dear VanCleef is a very smart man, and if _you_ had the opportunity to build a secret way out of jail, you would do it too.” 

Mathias frowned at Nathanos, narrowing his green eyes  to glare daggers, “ so w hat are you going to do about it?” 

“Me? Nothing. I couldn’t care less, they’re of no interest to me.” Nathanos shrugged and stretched his legs out towards the fireplace, “the question is, what are  _ you  _ going to do about it?”

Mathias turned his attention to the fire, trapped in the silence as the other two men waited for his answer. He knew what he  _ should _ do, he should take this information to Pathonia and put an end to it for the safety of Stormwind. It wasn’t as if he’d ever liked Thredd  much, the man was cocky and overbearing in all the wrong ways, he owed the man nothing....but, even so, doing the right thing felt  _ wrong _ . 

In that moment, he saw himself picking up the poster from earlier, and seeing the artist’s rendition of Anduin.  _ No _ , he thought to himself,  _ now was the time to pick a side and for this he needed to protect Anduin from more hurt _ . It was bad enough the boy would grow up without a mother, he didn’t need to lose his father too. “I will tell Pathonia in the morning, and personally check Thredd’s cell over.” 

“Good,” Nathanos replied, glad that Mathias had chosen to do the right thing, “the last thing this city needs is more trouble from the Stonemasons, or whatever banner they’ll reform under.” 

“You could help us.”

Nathanos shook his head, “I do enough for this city, I am not adding to that burden.” 

“People died today,” Mathias hissed, “innocent civilians.” 

“Indeed they did,” Nathanos agreed, “and more could have, had I - we - not  _ ‘helped’ _ .” 

Mathias glared at the fire, “Hollywell is dead, you know that right?”

Nathanos hummed, hearing the statement as the question it was, but ignoring it, “what a shame. I’m sure there will be no mourners at that funeral.” 

“He was stabbed in an alleyway.” 

“So I heard,” Nathanos replied without emotion. Good riddance to the man.

“Was it you?” Mathias asked.

“No. Not personally.”

“But you wanted him gone?” 

“Of course I did. Hollywell is - was - a snake, and I’ve been looking for a way to get rid of him for years. Without him, Count Erlgadin will likely be voted in as Head of Table, and that will put Penn in an excellent position. Hollywell didn’t like Penn, they butted heads too often.”

Mathias turned his gaze to Penn, who was still sitting quietly and staring off into the fire. “Was it you then? Did you kill him?”

Penn nodded,  the smallest of movements, one Mathias likely wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t been watching him so closely. “I did. He got Tiffin killed with his stupidity, he lied to her and she paid the price. Tiffin was wonderful, she was so kind and gentle, all she wanted was a peaceful end to the riots, and she was doing her best to get it. It was Hollywell who kept denying her. She could have closed the gap between the Nobles and the Stonemasons, if Hollywell hadn’t kept blocking her.”

Mathias found himself surprised to hear how upset Penn sounded, there was a definite quiver in his tone. Definitely out of character,  paired  with how withdrawn he acted. Where Nathanos radiated a sickly aura of death, Penn’s aura had always been warm, but right now it was as ice cold and turbulent. 

“Tiffin offered to use her own fa mily's money to pay them, but Hollywell shot her down and said that the idea would cause them more trouble. He said that it would make Stormwind look weak if she had to pay instead of the city, but then said Stormwind didn’t have the funds” Penn took a deep breath and picked at a loose piece of embroidery at the hem of his tunic, “Stormwind is a worse place without her, and it leaves Varian alone. He is... hot headed without her to temper his rage. Tiffin deserved so much better than this, to be killed by the ones she was trying to help.” 

Mathias agreed, “I only met her once, but she was very kind. Waltion is going to be very upset about this.” Which perhaps explained why Mathias hadn’t seen him at SI:7 earlier that night. 

“I dealt with her a lot. There were a few Nobles of the house that she trusted to be on her side with how this was handled. It led to many private meetings late at night, throwing ideas around to come up with a plan Hollywell would go for.”  Penn smiled sadly at a memory, “The past few times she brought Anduin along too , m ade us promise not to tell his nanny that she’d stolen him away. I never saw a mother love her child more than she loved Anduin, and little Anduin will never know that.” 

Mathias felt that in his heart. “I didn’t grow up with either of my parents,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. At least Anduin still has Varian.”

Penn hummed, “he’d be better with Tiffin, but I suppose Varian is better than nothing.” 

“This is the most depressing conversion I’ve  heard in awhile,” Nathanos huffed. Sure he’d have preferred if Tiffin hadn’t been killed, but at the end of the day she was just another human and he couldn’t understand why Penn was so upset about it. “Anduin will be fine, he’s got more people on his side than he knows. Hopefully he grows up to be more like Tiffin, and less like Varian.” 

“Are you on his side?” Mathias asked.

Nathanos scoffed, “if it suits me, sure. I’m not out to kill him if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“I’m going to look out for him,” Penn said quietly, “for Tiffin.” 

“You really liked her?” Mathias asked. 

Penn nodded, “I did.” 

“I’ll help you, I’m in a good position to do that,” Mathias promised, “Varian will be too much like Pathonia. Too strict, too cold, too distant. That’s not any way to grow up, someone needs to show him some kindness.” 

Nathanos scoffed loudly, “Banshee’s Tits, you two, this is ridiculous! He’s the Prince of Stormwind, not only is he going to be protected by Stormwind’s Guard for his entire life, he’s going to be raised by Nannies who love him. He doesn’t need more than that.” 

“It wouldn’t kill you to find some compassion in your rotted little heart,” Mathias snapped, “your ‘I don’t care about people’ thing is getting old, really fast. I get it, you’re edgy, life is meaningless blah blah blah, but it _ isn’t. _ I sure hope when Penn is as old as you are he’s still the same person, the world could use more of him and less of your cynicism.”

Nathanos didn’t rise to the bait, “Penn will never change, he values humanity more than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s ironic given what he did  _ before _ he died.”

Penn stiffened and growled, “Out of _ circumstance _ , not choice. I didn’t wake up one morning and  think ‘I don’t feel like being a dockworker any more, I’m going to go and terrorise some rich people into giving me stuff’. It was to join a gang, or die, and I didn’t  much feel like dying.” 

“How’d that work out for you?”

Penn glared at Nathanos, a flash of angry red taking over the deep chocolate brown of his irises. Mathias was surprised by the sheer venom in his face, Penn had never shown anything but friendly smiles, even in the meeting of the Nobles he’d shown no real hatred. 

“I don’t know, Nathanos, how did that work out for me?” 

“Pretty well I’d say,” Nathanos replied coolly, “you like your life don’t you?” 

“You really can be a prick,” Mathias spat, “your…” What exactly were they? Friends? Family? Or some san’layn term Mathias didn’t know? “Your  _ lover _ ,” yeah that would do, “is upset and you’re stabbing at the wound to make it worse? What’s wrong with you!?”

“My lover?” Nathanos sounded amused, “is he now?”

“Don’t change the subject. You always do that.” 

“I think,” Nathanos said as he pulled his feet away from the fire and crossed them, “that you should not make assumptions about our... _ dynamic _ . You forget how well I know my ward, and I am well aware that he is upset by what happened. I also know that Penn will let himself sink into that sadness unless he’s offered an out, and he won’t fight me like you do. So, I’ll give him a reason to until he finally snaps and feels better.” 

“Or you could just let him grieve like a normal person.” 

Penn growled, “I am right here you know, stop talking about me like I’m not! It’s disgustingly rude and quite offensive. While I appreciate your concern for my... well being, you’re  _ both _ being…”

“Say it,” Nathanos pushed, “say we’re both being pricks.” 

“You’re both being pricks!” Penn snapped, snatching at the permission he’d been granted, “how about you both let me decide how I want to feel instead of deciding for me? I’m not a child in need of a parent to coo over and protect me.” He stood and paced, his face contorted into anger, “ _ you’re both being pricks _ .”

“Feel better?” Nathanos asked while Mathias sank back in his chair and felt thoroughly chastised. 

“N o!” Penn snapped, then his  shoulders sagged, “...yeah.” 

“Good.” Nathanos laced his fingers together over his chest, “now what exactly did you say to Mathias to make him think we’re lovers?”

Penn was rigid, his body paused mid step. “The truth,” he said quietly, “that I’m your...consort for lack of a better term.” 

“I see.” 

“He asked,” Penn tried to explain, “he thought he’d done wrong in kissing you and that you were ... cheating on me.” 

“Did he now?” Nathanos hummed and turned to look at Mathias, his red eyes glowing like the coals in the fireplace, amusement etched over his features, “and what exactly made you think we were bed partners?” 

“I’m not blind?” Mathias answered as if that was all the answer needed, “you’re very fond of him and he is of you. All I needed was eyes.” 

“Hmph,” Nathanos turned his nose up at Mathias and looked back to the fire.

“You should have told me,” Mathias added, “I deserved to know that you weren’t exactly  _ single _ .” 

“I never said I was.” Nathanos sounded amused, the lilt of his voice igniting humiliated anger in Mathias, “did you make another assumption? I do so hate those.” 

Mathias snapped his mouth shut with the audible clack of teeth meeting too hard. Try as he might he couldn’t wrap his head around  _ why _ he found Nathanos so attractive, when the bastard was always such an  _ asshole _ . “What now?”

“I suppose that is up to you,” Nathanos replied, “you know where I - we - stand, now you just have to decide where you do.” 

“Are there others?” 

“Occasionally,” Nathanos agreed, “not that you need to get involved. San’layn politics  aren’t  like human politics, unless of course your king started fucking the nobles as a show of power. Which would be  _ far _ more interesting.” 

“Not for me,” Penn added, “I’d rather not have to sleep with Varian.” 

“Well I can’t blame you for that.” Nathanos clicked his tongue to break the silence, a habit he loathed to have picked up from Penn, “sex is a show of power, that’s why there are rules about not fucking down the social ladder for fun.” 

“Why sex though? Why not just have  castes, like humans do?” Mathias asked.

“Because that isn’t humiliating enough. Imagine; you’re a lower ranked head of a house, and the Blood Queen fucks you with a strap-on in front of your childe. Do you think they’re going to hold the same respec t after ? Of course not. It puts them in their place, and takes away the power they think they have.” 

“That’s…” Mathias struggled to word how that made him feel, it was certainly distasteful and cruel. “That’s revolting.”

Nathanos shrugged, “they’re not people, Mathias.”

“You say, ‘They’, like you’re not one of them.” 

“I’m not. There’s a reason I left Lordaeron and the Banshee Court. I am still tied to my sire and forced to obey her whims, but I am as distant from her court as possible.” 

“I find it hard to imagine that there’s something worse than calling humans ‘cattle’, and saying they hold no value.” 

Nathanos snorted, he could push his point but really ... what  _ was _ the point? He could mention that the Stratholme Plague wasn’t a disease like modern history reported it was, but a few San’layn with a real hate for the living. “Then let’s hope you never meet any more of my kind. I assure you, you wouldn’t be pleasantly surprised.” 

“Then why are you so different?” 

Nathanos shrugged, “does it matter? I don’t kill innocents, which automatically puts me far above the rest of my kind.” 

“Nathanos,” Penn said nervously, staring out of the window where the red haze of morning was starting to break into the dark of night, “we need to go.” 

“Hmm...We do,” Nathanos agreed, turning his eyes to the window as he stood. He splayed a large hand over the small of Penn’s back as he ushered him to the door, “work out where you want to stand, Mathias.” 

Mathias nodded, offered a goodbye and locked the door behind them. Finally, he crawled into his bed as the light of dawn broke through the curtains, unable to find sleep as a whole new set of questions ran through his mind. 


	9. First Contact

Tiffin’s funeral procession wove its way slowly through streets made tight with mourners wanting a final glance at their beloved Queen. For years she had been a favourite of the people, known for her kindness and understanding, always helping those in need and working with the House of Nobles to divert funds to charitable causes. Orphanages, schools, homeless shelters and healthcare had a solid place in Stormwind, thanks to her touch, created by her for the people she had loved. 

Mathias could understand why the city was so heartbroken. Stormwind had just  lost its heart. Its soul.

Tiffin’s hearse, drawn by four white horses adorned in flowers and the crest of Stormwind, followed behind Varian in his gleaming ceremonial armour. Varian’s face was set like stone, his eyes fixed on the distance, no doubt blocking out the noise of the mourners as he tried to keep his composure. Even his warhorse, known for being an untamed beast, sensed the seriousness of the situation and walked uncharacteristically calmly. 

Mathias tried not to look at his King . No , not a king today but a broken man, trying to hold his world together by a thread. Mathias could sympathise. 

Behind the hearse walked Tiffin’s family, her heartbroken mother comforted by her stoic father, a range of aunts, uncles, cousins and distant relatives that Mathias guessed had never been close to Tiffin, but wanted to participate in the spectacle more than say goodbye. Mathias frowned down at them, questioning his own feelings - since when had he become such a cynic? 

Finally, bringing up the rear of the procession, walked the remaining members of the House of Nobles, far smaller than it had been just a week prior.  There had been a full investigation into the House, in which Mathias had actively participated. Alongside Waltion and Pathonia, he had removed the cancer from an otherwise functioning body. Hollywell’s plan had lost many other nobles their seat, once it was found that they too were prospering  from underhanded deals. Although, no doubt Nathanos and Penn were pleased to see Count Erlgadin take the top seat, as they had predicted, and start soothing over the horrendous wounds. 

Barely more than a stealthed shadow, Mathias followed the procession from above, a secret bodyguard , looking out for anyone stupid enough to make a move on Varian. With the Stonemasons so angry about being pushed out of the city, Mathias wouldn’t be surprised to see some kind of ill thought out plan. 

Varian turned onto a street adjacent to the canals and headed north towards Stormwind’s cemetery. His armour shone in the late summer sunshine as he held his head up and rode forward, under trees beginning to change to autumn colours. 

A large ceremony had already been held at the Cathedral earlier in the day, conducted by the High Priest, his acolytes, and watched over by the Paladin order. The service had been beautiful, but ultimately forgettable through the heavy religious talk of souls reuniting in the Light. Mathias would never admit to zoning out the monotonous drawl of the High Priest only a few minutes in. No doubt Nathanos would get a kick out of that information.

The service had been a closed affair to the public, and now was the time to let people say goodbye. A morbid spectacle of people trying to catch one last look at the Queen through the glass coffin. The slow procession had travelled through each of the districts, starting in the Dwarven Quarter , then through Old Town and the Market Square,  to the g reen gardens of the mage district, and now took its final journey north, along the canal towards the docks and the cemetery. Tiffin’s coffin, covered in so many flowers that she was barely visible through the glass, left a trail of fallen flowers and petals in its wake. A grim souvenir of the day that were picked up in shaking hands and gently cradled. 

Mathias diverted his eyes off his surroundings just long enough to see Penn pick a white rose off the path and hold it gently at his side. It left Mathias wondering just how close they had been and how long they had known each other. That in turn left him thinking too deeply into whether the san’layn knew love, without even asking, he knew Penn would say yes and Nathanos a definite no. Nathanos’ ‘no’ was questionable, even if he didn’t want to admit it, Mathias had seen how he fretted over Penn when he had been a prisoner of the worgen hunter. 

Mathias made a giant leap over the alleyway between two multi-story houses and landed quietly on the tiles, following the ridge to keep just in front of Varian where any attack would likely come from. It was unlikely, the stonemasons, now reformed under the banner of the Defias Brotherhood, had respected Tiffin, and Mathias knew they would let her rest in peace and stay away. Even if they had the numbers to form a strong attack, they wouldn’t do so. 

Just as Mathias had suspected, the whole event went without a hitch and he could finally relax from his post and jump down onto the streets. He joined a patrol of six of Stormwind’s guard, standing in the archway to the cemetery. Similar patrols stood in every entrance, keeping the public at bay so that Varian could say his final goodbye in private. 

Mathias had seen the plaque and statue that made up Tiffin’s grave, they were beautiful in their design and showed none of the bad workmanship expected of the speed at which they were crafted. 

_ ‘Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn _

_ Queen of Stormwind _

_ Fair and just, a wit as quick as her smile. _

_ May the Light inherit your warmth, for  _

_ our world grows cold in your absence.’ _

It wasn’t what Mathias had expected to be written by a man of Varian’s...personality. There was a beauty in the words, simple but poetic, summing up Tiffin’s life eloquently and filled with the love of a man who called her his world. 

Varian left without a word once Tiffin’s coffin had been lowered into the ground. Shrouded by a handful of SI:7 agents while a hooded figure of Varian’s stature rode his horse back to the stables. Mathias stuck around for a short while, if only to procrastinate going back to his Headquarters and facing Pathonia. She had been somewhat cold to him after he had stood up to her and Mathias was unsure where they stood against each other now. Their relationship had never been easy, but it seemed to be more strained now that Mathias was actively challenging his place in SI:7 and asserting his desire to stand as her equal. Mathias had grown a spine and Pathonia, while pleased it had happened and agreed it would make Mathias a greater Spymaster, was also unhappy that it meant more of a fight to get her own way. 

There was also the small question she couldn’t shake of  _ why _ Mathias had started working so hard and was taking his position so seriously. Mathias had never truthfully answered her and simply said that he’d ‘grown up and done some thinking’, which wasn’t a lie, but was definitely more to do with Nathanos edging him into taking the role.

Mathias left when he was sure the Stormwind Guard could handle the slow file of people to Tiffin’s tomb, leaving it covered in mountains of flowers and candles. He couldn’t bear to see it for himself as the guilt chewed away his tender heart and rebuilt it as a protective wall. 

\------------

It wasn’t a surprise that Pathonia didn’t want to share company with Mathias, they were both uncharacteristically tiptoeing around their new relationship dynamic. Something that Mathias put down to the high workload and emotional impact of Tiffin’s death. Even Waltion, a friendly staple of SI:7, had taken his leave of the headquarters and worked from up at the Keep, sending back his reports every day instead of delivering them in person. 

Everything was a mess and Mathias could feel the once solid foundation of SI:7 teetering under them. 

Mathias only stopped by to report that everything at the funeral had gone as well as could be expected on his end. No assassinations, no attacks and Varian was safely back at the keep. He didn’t go into detail, Pathonia had also been on patrol and would know everything already, Mathias was merely holding up the etiquette of his position. Instead of asking for a new assignment, he told Pathonia he had his own to work to get on with and thinking of the promise he’d made a few nights before, made his way down to the Stockades alone. 

From the warmth of the streets, the Stockade felt like another world as Mathias descended the damp steps into the cold darkness. Bazil Thredd’s cell was heavily guarded by Stormwind’s best soldiers, six of them all dressed in the typical armour of the Stormwind Guard, only their silver armour bore the colours of their ranks and medals. One of them, their commander, Mathias rightly assumed, stepped forward to stop Mathias coming any closer. 

“Agent Shaw,” he said with a voice like sandpaper over gravel, “we were not informed of visitors.” 

“Stand down,” Mathias said with far more confidence than he felt, uncomfortable giving orders to a man more than twice his age. “Bazil Thredd is-”

“Is that the Mini Shaw?” Bazil shouted with amusement from behind the heavily bolted door, followed by the sound of strong chains dragging on the stone floor, “send that little prick in! I’d love to have a few words with that traitor.” 

Mathias frowned, ignoring Thredd, “Bazil Thredd built these cells, with Edwin, I suspect they built in a way out or a way to communicate. I want to inspect his cell.” 

“His cell has already been checked over, twice,” the older man replied and through the thin slit of metal through his helmet, Mathias could see his face pull into one of annoyance as the quality of his work was questioned. 

“Not by me,” Shaw replied, “I know Edwin’s work better than anyone now that the Stonemasons are gone. If there is something here then I will spot it and if there isn’t then you know you did your checks well.” Mathias didn’t want to pull rank on a man just doing his job, but SI:7 did outrank the guard and no matter what, he was getting inside that cell. 

Thankfully for him - and the argument it would have caused with Pathonia - the guard stepped aside with a gruff, ‘do as you will then’. The heavy duty lock echoed down the hallway with a loud  _ ker-shunk  _ as the bolt pulled free.

The cell wasn’t special, stone walls, a flagstone floor and a reinforced ceiling that would stop anyone digging through from street level. Thredd himself was chained in the centre of the room, with only a bucket and an old straw bedding mat within reach. Above the prisoner a small patch of sunlight beamed down from the small grate in the ceiling, a pitiful warmth in the cold room.

“Little Mattie,” Bazil smiled sharply as the spy walked in, “if it’s not Edwin’s Downfall himself, come to gloat over your win?” 

Mathias didn’t respond, Bazil had always been hard to like and after years of pretending they could be friends for Edwin’s sake, he didn’t feel like engaging. 

“Well,” Bazil continued like they were old friends reunited, “I’d like to say a pleasure to see you again, but I had rather hoped you’d died in the riots. I was told we got a few of your lot and they went down squealing like pigs to slaughter.” 

“Are you done?” Mathias asked, leaning back on the door casually while he surveyed the room for anything out of place, “I thought you’d at least have something interesting to say after you shouted for me to come in.”

Brazil sneered, his nose wrinkling up like a rat’s, as he realised the deaths of the SI:7 agents wasn’t a weak spot for Mathias...but everyone knew what was, “it’s a shame Edwin isn’t here, he was so very torn up by your betrayal.  _ ‘We are brothers’ _ he’d say every time I called you the cowardly, spineless rat you are, _ ‘Red has my back, he always does’ _ . And then you didn’t, you proved yourself the cowardly little rat I always knew you were.” 

“I don’t care what you think of me and this isn’t going to work,” Mathias replied and pushed off the door as he considered gagging the man with his own shoe. Straight onto his task, Mathias inched his way down the left wall, looking for loose stones, hidden switches or symbols. Something, anything, to prove Nathanos had been right.

Bazil watched Mathias closely, his dark eyes following him around the room. Of course there were weak spots built in, Edwin had always been ten steps ahead of everyone else, although granted the worst they ever thought they would be arrested for was being drunk and disorderly.

Bazil couldn’t let Mathias find them, not when Edwin was counting on him, he dropped the biggest bombshell he had. An all in attack. “I never understood what Edwin saw in you. He could have had anyone he wanted and yet he waited for you, a coward and a fool.” 

Mathias’ heart stopped beating as he turned to face the raven haired prisoner. Bazil’s smile turned feral and he took in Mathias’ face, as white as a sheet. “Oh Mattie, did you really not see it? You’re more a fool that I realised. ‘The best spy in Stormwind?’ HA.” He laughed loud and cold, “how can you be such a good spy if you’re so blind? He wasn’t even subtle. He took you on a date!”

Mathias couldn’t hear the last taunting words over the roar of blood in his ears. The Stockades were cold but the chill he felt was beyond that and clawed down to his very marrow. Bazil’s laughter echoed around him. 

The sting of the words would take years to fade, but Mathias took a deep breath, doing what he did best and forced his feelings into a closed box labeled ‘ignore’. He took a moment to remind himself that this had all been Edwin’s doing and neatly filed his thoughts away for a breakdown later. Work first, heartbreak later. 

Without those pesky emotions, he looked at the attack rationally and logically, why was Bazil taunting him so...desperately?  _ A distraction then _ , his brain told him,  _ a verbal stab at his weakness in order to take his focus off the task at hand.  _

“Where is it?” Mathias asked coldly.

“Where’s what?” Bazil growled in response. 

“I won’t ask again,” Mathias said through gritted teeth, “I’ll break all your fingers if I have to make you talk.” 

Mathias watched Bazil’s eyes unconsciously flicked towards the back wall. “Smart choice.” 

Now he knew exactly where to look, it didn’t take long to find what he was looking for, all the while Bazil taunted him all the while with barbed comments about his relationship with Edwin. Mathias ignored him, a far easier task now he saw it for the desperate attack it was, half of it probably wasn’t even true. At least Mathias hoped not when Bazil mentioned Edwin jerking off and moaning his name. 

With a feeling of triumph, Mathias found a stone jutting out just a little too much from the wall and pulled it free. It was barely the size of a man’s fist, but through the hole Mathias could see a cavity, most likely part of the foundations. He couldn’t see much, but it looked large enough for a man to crawl through. Ideal for the covert drop off of information. 

Bazil looked defeated and fuelled by pure rage as he slumped in his chains, “you fucking rat bastard.” 

“Incredible,” Mathias mused, “tell me, did you plan this crawlspace or repurpose it later?”

“We’re done talking,” Bazil hissed. 

“Oh now you’re not talking to me? That’s funny given how much talking you’ve done since I walked in.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Bazil sneered, “you’re one of  _ them _ and always have been. Edwin was wrong about you ever standing with us.” 

“I did stand with you,” Mathias corrected, “but your recent actions have made me reevaluate my stance. What happened to your guild was wrong, but what you did in retaliation was worse.” 

“So what? A parasite royal is dead. The only regret we have is that it was Tiffin and not Varian.” 

Mathias disgusted himself with agreeing to that statement and wisely didn’t reply. He took the rock he’d removed with him as he knocked on the door and asked the guards to release him. “That ‘parasite royal’ was fighting for your rights, it seems to me that you never knew who your friends were. Myself included, although personally I always found you an abrasive piece of shit.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Bazil sneered through gritted teeth, “trust me.” 

Mathias stepped back as the heavy door opened inwards and looked at Bazil, chained down like an animal. “I don’t, and I never did.” 

Glad to be free of the stockades and back in the warm evening air, Mathias headed straight for SI:7 to talk to Pathonia again and face her anger at acting on a hunch. Even if that hunch had ultimately been right. 

Two agents lingering by her office door confirmed to Mathias that Pathonia wasn’t in a meeting, so he knocked and immediately entered. There was no greeting, he simply set the rock down on her desk and waited until she looked up at him with annoyance to explain. 

Mathias stood to attention, his arms clasped behind his back, legs a shoulder width apart, every inch the obedient agent while speaking with as much disrespect as he felt in the moment. “That is from Thredd’s cell, the back wall of it to be precise. I had a hunch that the people who built the cells might have built a safety feature in and I was right. There’s a crawl space behind the wall, I would assume it follows the foundation lines all the way around the stockades, and would make an excellent way of dropping off information. If I were the Spymaster then I would use that to my advantage and move Thredd into a new cell, tell him we checked it and found nothing, give him a sense of hope, then listen in to what happens.” 

Pathonia’s eyes narrowed, but Mathias didn’t feel the same fear as he had, now he felt apathy when faced with her ire. “You believe you know my job better than me?”

“In this case, yes, I do,” he gestured to the rock on her desk as if that was all the answer he needed. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted me to start acting like the future Spymaster? Well here it is, I followed a hunch and uncovered something useful for Stormwind. However, I’ve done my part for today and I’m clocking off before I hit overtime again. I’ll leave you to organise what happens next. Good night, Pathonia.” 

Pathonia stuttered, red faced and angry, Mathias took an unhealthy amount of joy from leaving the usually stoic woman at a loss for words and quickly left before she decided to find some just for him. His entire body was buzzing as he stepped out onto the streets again, a rush of adrenaline so strong that his teeth ached with how hard he clenched them. 

\----------------

As soon as the sun set, Mathias knew he wasn’t alone. There was no sound or smell, just the instinctive feeling of being watched. 

“I’m really not in the mood for company tonight,” he informed the shadows slowly swallowing his room. 

“I can see that,” Nathanos replied and completely ignored it as he took a seat opposite Mathias at the tiny dining table. 

Mathias grit his teeth and stared into the bottom of his glass, through the amber liquid filling it. “What do you want?”

“I came to take you out, Penn’s idea, he called it a ‘date’ and said it’s what people do these days. I’ve got tickets to a theatre show and a private box. You can be grouchy about having company while also enjoying a distraction.” 

“No,” Mathias replied, “where is Penn anyway?”

Nathanos shrugged, “at the Keep somewhere, ‘fulfilling his duty to Tiffin’. I don’t know what that means but as long as he’s not caught sneaking around then I don’t really care.”

“Ah.” Mathias leaned back in the chair and finally looked up at Nathanos, “so you’re bored and your first choice turned you down so now I’m the entertainment?”

“No, the theatre is the entertainment, you’re the company.” 

Mathias snorted, “never had you pegged for a theatre kind of person. That seems like a rather frivolous waste of your, oh so important, time.” 

“It is,” Nathanos replied and rested his elbows on the table, “however, some frivolous things can also be enjoyable...with the right company.” 

“I’m not the right company for that on any night, but especially today.” 

Nathanos sighed and crossed his arms on the table, looking at the younger man with his lips pursed in annoyance, “alright, then what do you want to do?”

“I want to sit here in silence,” he replied testily, then added a growled ‘Alone’ like Nathanos might take a hint.

Nathanos had the gall to look amused. “Yes, well, we both know that isn’t going to happen.”

“It would,” Mathias growled, “if you weren’t such a demanding bastard.”

“Possibly, but I am, so you will just have to accept that and come along for the ride.” Nathanos wasn’t known for his caring personality, but it was there, hidden under layers of arrogance and snide remarks. “What’s the matter with you anyway? Bad day?” 

Mathias nodded, “...yeah.” 

“Do you want to talk about it or do you want a distraction?”

“Both...neither.” Mathias sighed and ran a hand through his hair, flicking his ponytail off his shoulder, “I wish I’d never followed your advice and gone to see Thredd’s cell.” 

“Because I was right?”

Mathias nodded, “you were, but that’s not the reason. Thredd knew things, things I never considered Edwin would talk about...Edwin always kept his private business private.”

“Everyone needs someone to vent to or it eventually eats you up.” 

“Yeah,” Mathias agreed quietly, taking a long sigh, “but Thredd knew that he was...interested in me and I never saw it. I was so blind that I never saw what was right in front of my face! I could have been happy and now I have to live with the knowledge that I could have had everything I wanted. Only it’s too late to act.” 

“You wouldn’t have been happy,” Nathanos said with certainty, “all of this would have still happened and you’d just be sitting here mourning a boyfriend instead of a friend. You peg so much on what could have happened, when the outcome would always have been the same.” 

“You can’t know that for sure.” 

“And neither can you, but you’re so certain things would be different if _ this _ happened or if  _ that _ happened. They wouldn’t and you’re enjoying your own guilt.” 

Mathias growled, his eyes narrowing to emerald slits, “why would I enjoy my own guilt?” 

“Because if you place enough guilt on your own shoulders then you don’t have to place it on his, and VanCleef gets to stay innocent and untarnished. He’s not and you know it, you just won’t accept it. No matter how much you want to tell yourself that things would be different if you had just talked to him, or dated him, or picked him over Stormwind, things would have played out exactly the same. Either you’re a romantic or an idiot - probably both - to assume that you could succeed where the Nobles, the King and Queen, your Spymaster, the diplomats and the talks all failed.” 

“He was my best friend,” Mathias snapped back, “he would have listened to me if I had just been there for him!” 

“He would have listened to you in the same way that I listen to you, and that is that I don’t,” Nathanos stood, “now, I didn’t come here to join your pity party of one, get dressed and let’s go.” 

“No,” Mathias frowned, “I already told you that I’m not going. Theatres aren’t what I would consider a form of enjoyment.”

“Have you ever been?”

Mathias shook his head and stood with the plan of locking himself in his bedroom again until Nathanos left, “no. But a dark room filled with people and distraction so someone could sneak in and assassinate me. No thank you, go find Penn if you want company tonight.” 

“I already told you, he’s up at the Keep. Probably playing nanny to Anduin.”

Mathias looked annoyed, “and I’m not his replacement because he doesn’t have time for you any more.” 

Nathanos frowned and took a step forward, closing the gap between them while Mathias glared up at him and resented the height difference. “Watch your tongue,” he growled. 

“Or what?” Mathias snapped back, “I stopped being afraid of you a long time ago. Threats only work if the other person fears what you can do to them.” 

Nathanos’ hand closed around Mathias’ throat, he could feel the fast beat of the human’s pulse under his fingertips, one that usually accompanied the bitter smell of fear. With Mathias, there was no fear, just the usual lust and excitement. It was a heady mix, one that the san’layn didn’t want to admit was addictive. 

Mathias lifted his chin and tilted his head to the side at the request of Nathanos’ thumb pressing under his jaw. He remained steadfast as Nathanos grazed the sensitive skin over his pulse with sharp fangs and whispered that he ‘could do it if he wanted to’. 

“But you won’t,” Mathias replied confidently. 

“One day I will,” Nathanos told him. As far as he was concerned that wasn’t up for debate, the ‘when’ however he was more flexible on. “But I’ll let you choose when.” 

That, surprisingly, didn’t come as a shock to Mathias who knew he should be appalled...and yet...he wasn’t. Instead of repulsion he felt strangely warm inside, it certainly wasn’t the  _ right _ reaction but he found himself liking the idea of being so wanted. 

“Why would you let me choose when?”

“Because it’s right.”

“What if I chose not to?”

“You wouldn’t.” 

Mathias pulled back to look into Nathanos’ eyes, glowing so bright they burned into his soul. He had to tiptoe to meet Nathanos’ lips, cold and yielding against his own. Nathanos certainly hadn’t expected that reaction, but deep down it cemented the knowledge that he’d made the right choice. Mathias had been his the first night they met, although neither had quite grasped how deep that would go. 

Nathanos leaned into the kiss and laced his fingers through Mathias hair, as he was prone to doing with Penn so he could tug on his ponytail. Unlike their first kiss, this one wasn’t the hungry and eager clash of teeth but a slow exploration as Mathias’ hands wandered timidly over the cold leather of Nathanos’ armour, unsure about where was acceptable to rest them. 

Nathanos led the kiss, deepening it with slow drags of his tongue against Mathias’ lips, drawing out Mathias’ tongue to play. Mathias was a fast learner, even more so when he found Nathanos was just as into it as him. 

Nathanos could feel the hot pants of air against his cold lips as the kiss broke, barely lasting a few seconds before Mathias was back and asking for more. They moved back at Nathanos’ insistence, until Mathias felt the back of his thighs meet the hard edge of the table. Without breaking the kiss he took the wordless ask and hopped up onto the table, allowing Nathanos to move between his spread thighs.

The kiss alone was a shot of pleasure that Mathias chased, clutching and pulling at the leather covering Nathanos’ chest to pull him closer. It wasn’t until Nathanos’ pressed in close, chest to chest, that he felt it. The hard length of Nathanos’ cock pressed roughly against his own, that alone he could have handled, but Nathanos moved, grinding against him to the rough material of his pants dragged over the tip of his cock. Mathias jerked into it with a choked moan, his grip on Nathanos white knuckled. 

It was further than he’d ever been with anyone before and Mathias was out of his depth, trusting his future sire to show him the way. Nathanos rolled his hips, dragging their lengths together through the double layer of fabric. 

It was Mathias who ended the kiss by reluctantly pushing Nathanos away so he could catch his breath and wriggle away from the touch on his dick before he embarrassed himself and came in his pants. It wouldn’t have been the first time, but wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat, especially not in front of the man he was actively lusting after. 

Nathanos’ hands cupped at Mathias’ flushed face, his cold fingers a stark contrast to the blazing heat of the human’s skin. “What do you want?”

“I…” Mathias chewed his bottom lip nervously, he hadn’t thought about it at all, but this felt good so far. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“I guessed that much already,” Nathanos replied and decided that it was probably best to take it slow, at least for now. If a kiss and a little grinding already had Mathias so close to orgasm then he wouldn’t last long regardless of what they did. “Let’s go to your bed and at least get comfortable?”

Mathias gave a soft nod and jumped down off the table, his body trembling with excitement and arousal as he padded across the room, followed closely by Nathanos, and into his bedroom. The room was small, Mathias had no doubt that Nathanos had looked inside at some point given the way the san’layn liked to just turn up and wait like he belonged there. Even so, Mathias felt strangely self conscious of how little personality the room had, there were no pictures or paintings, the furniture was worn and clunky (something Edwin had repeatedly bullied him about) and the sheets on the bed were a creamy off-white linen. 

Nathanos barely noticed, there were more interesting things to look at than the complete lack of decoration and his eyes remained fixed on Mathias. They kissed again, with Nathanos pressing Mathias into the wall so their bodies could meet flush, he worked a knee between the younger man’s thighs and moaned into the kiss as they eagerly grinded against each other. 

Mathias was skittish, nervous under the questing touches of cold hands against his hot body. Nathanos understood even without being told and moved slow, the same way he had back when he had been a young farm boy dealing with skittish colts. Only Mathias was worse than any colt had been, when they weren’t kissing he was biting his lip, unsure whether to press in for more or return the touches. His hands remained fisted on Nathanos’ hips as he fought his brain trying to work out the proper etiquette for grinding their erections together up a wall. 

Nathanos kissed the younger man again, reassuring him that it was ok and he wasn’t going to harm him. In fact quite the opposite, he was entirely sure that Mathias would well enjoy it if he could relax into it and stop worrying. 

The kiss was something Mathias knew well enough to take as a distraction, letting his mind linger on the taste and feel of Nathanos’ lips. It wasn’t until he felt his button up shirt slip over his shoulders that he realised just how much of a distraction it had been. Nathanos crowded against him, stroking his hands over the newly bared flesh with a pleased growl, “I thought you’d have more scars.” 

Mathias shrugged, acting nonchalant as calloused thumbs flicked over his nipples, “give it time I guess. I’m sure I’ll have more one day.” 

“Hmm, not if I can help it,” Nathanos hummed softly and pressed kisses to Mathias’ neck, his cock jerking in his pants as the human offered himself again by tilting his head to the side, “you have no idea what you do to me when you do that.”

Mathias chuckled and pressed his hips flush to Nathanos’, rolling his thigh into the hard bulge between the san’layn’s legs. “I think I have a pretty good idea to be honest.” The scratch of coarse hair against his neck was addictive, no doubt he’d have to find some high necked armour in the morning with how hard Nathanos was sucking marks into his freckled skin. 

With a little more confidence in the situation, Mathias touched back eagerly, dropping his hands low to palm at Nathanos’ straining cock. He could feel how thick it was underneath the soft leather of his trousers and bit his lip as he moaned, terrified and turned on by the idea of being fucked by it. 

Nathanos nipped at Mathias’ neck, just shy of breaking the skin as he held back and reminded himself again that his current lover was human and all too easy to harm. Piece by piece, Mathias’ clothes fell to the floor, until Nathanos had free rein to touch him all over

“I think you’re a little overdressed for this party,” Mathias said, blushing deep red as he tried to joke off the discomfort he felt from being visually devoured by the san’layn. 

Nathanos snorted, “true enough.” But, Light, Mathias was beautiful like this. Strong and well muscled, but lithe, built more towards stealth attacks rather than outright fighting. The blush travelled down his face and neck and mottled over his chest, stark against his pale skin. Nathanos was pleased to find freckles, not as dark or numerous as Penn’s but a wide expanse of faded marks dusting his chest and arms. “You really are quite lovely.” 

Mathias bit his lip, a habit Nathanos had come to learn meant that Mathias was struggling with how to act. Most often it followed a compliment and nearly always followed a blush. There was no reply, Mathias simply squeezed himself out of Nathanos’ hold and climbed onto the bed, pulling his legs up to his chest to hide his erection from hungry eyes. 

“I’ll just undress myself then?” Nathanos asked through the playful smile, “even after I helped you.”

“Yes. I’m sure you’ll manage, you’re a big boy afterall.” 

Nathanos tutted and started unbuckling his armour, peeling each piece off slowly, deliberately putting on a show that Mathias’ eyes were glued to. There was no hesitation or fear in Nathanos’ actions and was soon standing naked next to the bed as if he did the same thing every night. Mathias stared at him, Nathanos was stockier than he’d imagined, hairier too, with a thick, dark chest of it and a dark trail leading down to a- no, Mathias looked away quickly. 

“Why so shy? Haven’t you ever seen anyone naked before?” Nathanos asked. 

Mathias gave a barely there nod, “yes but not when...they’re...you know.” 

“Hard?” Nathanos guessed and lay down next to Mathias on top of the sheets, reaching down to slowly stroke himself while Mathias watched with quiet hunger. It was a nice cock, Mathias thought as he watched the blunt head disappear into Nathanos’ fist, not overly long, but thicker than his own. 

“You know, you could do some of the work,” Nathanos grumbled playfully. 

“I could,” Mathias agreed with a sly smile, “but I’m rather enjoying watching you.” 

“Ah, so you’re a voyeur then?”

“Maybe. What can I say? I’m a spy, I do a lot of watching.” 

“Too much watching,” Nathanos huffed and lifted an arm, inviting Mathias to cuddle up against his side, “come here.”

It wasn’t an invitation that Mathias expected and one that seemed overly romantic coming from a man so verbally against affection. It was however an invitation that Mathias was quick to accept, pressing in close and molding against Nathanos’ side to use his chest as a pillow. The arm around his shoulders was particularly nice when he felt the gentle brush of fingertips at his spine, drawing lazy patterns over his burning hot skin.

Mathias explored Nathanos’ body with a slow curiosity that was tainted by the inability to relax and let his defences down. He couldn’t look at his lover - and they were lovers now weren’t they? - as his fingers followed the strong ropes of muscle and stopped to linger on old scars. Nathanos hummed softly as Mathias scratched through his chest hair and brushed against his nipples before moving on to a raised scar across his ribs. There was one scar that fascinated Mathias, a gnarled slash about six inches long reaching from bellybutton to hip bone, it felt...wrong under his fingers, as if the weapon that made it still lingered under the skin. 

Nathanos tensed and snapped back into the moment, grabbing Mathias’ wrist and pulling it away, “not there.” There were certain memories he didn’t want to relive and did his best to forget and bury, his death ranked highly on that list. 

There was no debate in that order, as softly as Nathanos had spoken it, Mathias felt the sharp undertone not to push. He also didn’t need to be a genius to know that the scar he’d seen earlier on Nathanos’ back was from the same injury and was definitely an impalement on something thick and jagged. 

“Noted,” Mathias replied in lieu of an apology. He moved his hand away, edging ever closer towards the cock standing proud in the patch of neatly trimmed hair. 

“Now you’re getting it,” Nathanos smiled and arched into the touch. 

“Can I?” He asked as his hand hovered just inches away from his goal. 

Nathanos moved his hand away and settled it on his hip, “of course.” 

Mathias took it in hand and stroked it with a light drag up towards the tip. Although he’d never had another man’s cock in his hand, It was familiar in the same way a new dagger was familiar, sure it was the same as what he had before, but the weight was different and the grip too new to feel comfortable. Nathanos was content to act as the voyeur this time and pillowed his arm under his head as he trailed light patterns over Mathias’ back. 

While Mathias couldn’t count a list of lovers or any true experience in the bedroom, he had been a horny teen once, jerking off in the dead of night to thoughts of raven hair and strong arms. A dick was a dick, right? What felt good for him was probably the same for other men. He knew his own cock well. Better than he’d ever admit. 

The hard flesh was cold in the spy’s hand, warming only slightly as it absorbed the sweaty heat of his hand. Mathias dragged his hand up towards the tip and slipped a finger under the foreskin, circling the sensitive head hidden underneath and noting the quiet intake of air as Nathanos shifted. 

Emboldened and enjoying the experience of finally touching someone other than himself, Mathias pulled back on the foreskin, rolling it down to expose the wet tip. A bead of pre-cum leaked out, only to be caught on Mathias’ thumb and used to lubricate the stroke of his hand. 

Nathanos’ hips pressed up, into the warmth of the warm fist as he sighed a pleased moan. “That’s it, good boy.” 

Mathias opened his mouth to argue being called a ‘boy’, then snapped it shut when the praise went straight between his legs. Nathanos took note and smiled a smug grin, filing the information away for later. Of course the young man had a praise kink. 

After biting his lip and considering his options, mentally making a pros and cons list for what could happen here tonight, Mathias spoke, “can I use my mouth?”

“I can’t think of a better use for it,” Nathanos purred, the vibration of his chest tickling at Mathias’ cheek. He watched in rapt attention as Mathias ignored the comment and crawled down the bed, propping himself up awkwardly so he could be within licking distance. His plump lips were parted and glossed with spit, if ever there was a mouth destined to stretch around a cock then it was Mathias’ and Nathanos was incredibly pleased to have found it.

Mathias could feel the burning red gaze bore holes into his head and didn’t need to look up to see that pleased, smug little smile. Nathanos really was insufferable sometimes. Mathias took the dick in hand again and peeled back to foreskin, giving a tentative lick at the tip to taste the glistening clear liquid beading at the tip, it was bitter, reminding him acutely of sour dwarven ale he’d got his hands on as a child...except not quite as bad. 

As Nathanos’ hand threaded through Mathias’ hair, the spy took confidence, licking and sucking at the length before he took the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue across the tip. His heart raced in his chest, bouncing off his ribcage as he realised what he was doing was pleasuring another person.

Nathanos’s hands carded through the silky copper strands of hair, tugging the leather tie free in the process and sending the long strands to hang around Mathias’ face. He had never seen him with his hair free and Mathias caught his frown before he could hide it. 

Mathias looked concerned, “what’s wrong?” 

Ever tactful, Nathanos answered, “you don’t suit long hair, it looks nicer off your face. It makes your eyes look brighter that way.” 

“Oh…” Mathias ran his hand through his hair and frowned, unsure how to reply to that. “I don’t wear it down at all really.”

“I know,” Nathanos replied and let the silky strands slip through his fingers, “it just caught me by surprise is all.” The surprise was how much he didn’t like it when he found long hair attractive. 

“You don’t like it?” Mathias asked cautiously. 

Nathanos shook his head, “it doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. You shouldn’t change yourself for other people.” 

Mathias, who had grown up reading the subtext in conversations with Pathonia, understood that answer as a solid ‘no’. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t like it either, but his hair had always been the one thing Pathonia didn’t control and it was the fashion for young men to have a ponytail. Rightly or wrongly, Mathias had just wanted to fit in, and thought that was perhaps the reason his hair didn’t suit him. It had never been very ‘him’.

“I’m sorry,” Mathias replied and took the leather tie off the bed, sitting up so he could retie his hair as he always wore it. 

“What are you apologising for?” Nathanos asked. 

Mathias shrugged, “not being right, I suppose.” 

“No one is right all the time.”

Mathias raised a questioning eyebrow at Nathanos, “I thought you were never wrong?”

Nathanos chuckled and pushed himself up, pulling Mathias into his lap where he could run his hands up his sides and tease at his nipples. “ _ I _ am never wrong,” he said smugly. A lie, there were too many times he’d been wrong, the latest of which had ended with Penn almost dying to the worgen hunter. That mistake had almost cost him Mathias as well. 

Shifting forward on his knees, Mathias pressed in close to Nathanos, rocking their cocks together in a nauseatingly sedate pace. At such close quarters he could see the fang marks in Nathanos’ neck and ran a finger over them, the bite had been deep but delicate, healing in a perfect impression of his sire’s fangs. So unlike Penn’s bite where it seemed half his throat had been torn out, Nathanos’ had been done with care. “Does it hurt?”

Nathanos tilted his head to the side and allowed Mathias’ questing fingers to trace the mark. “Do you want the truthful answer to that or the placating lie?”

“The truth,” Mathias answered. The truth was all that mattered to a spy dealing in absolutes.

“Then yes, it hurts. Not how you think it will hurt though, it’s not a pain that can be explained, only experienced.” 

Mathias frowned, “but you want to do that to me? You want to put me through that pain?” 

Nathanos nodded, “I will, yes, and you will ask for it. Perhaps not soon, maybe not for a few years or a decade, but you will eventually.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because I’m never wrong,” Nathanos said as his lips curled up into a teasing grin.

Mathias yelped as Nathanos flipped him, his back hitting the crisp, clean sheets as the undead loomed above him like a hunter on its prey. “That’s enough of that talk, I believe we were busy with more important things.” 

“Please,” Mathias gasped as blunt nails were dragged down his chest, the previous conversation forgotten as his cock jerked against his abdomen, a fresh drip of precum rolling off the tip. 

Nathanos smirked as he crawled between the young man’s legs. He had to give Mathias credit for not immediately spilling his load the second a hand touched his dick. “Relax,” Nathanos told him, feeling how Mathias tensed under him, “I’m not going to fuck you...at least not today.” 

That...didn’t make Mathias feel much better, knowing it was coming at some point, but the press of Nathanos’ cock against his own and the slow grind soon stole whatever thoughts he had. 

“Besides,” Nathanos said playfully, “you need to relax, no one can fuck you with that giant stick up your ass, there’s no room for anything else.” In the same way he knew Mathias would one day ask to be turned, Nathanos knew he would one day seek more than a simple touch. It would take a while, working that stick free could take months, but the end result would be far sweeter. 

“There’s no stick,” Mathias growled, arching his hips up to chase the sharp pull on his foreskin. 

Nathanos leaned down, pressing their bodies flush so he could both grind their cocks together and kiss him back into silence where the breathy, needy sounding moans were freed. With a skilled hand, Nathanos worked them both and it didn’t take much to have the human squirming and arching against the crisp sheets. Mathias’ breath came in short, sharp pants, his fingers turning to claws as he gripped at Nathanos’ strong arms and felt like he was drowning in the sensation of someone wanting him. 

Mathias was beautiful like this, blushed red with need and embarrassment, his pink lips wet and parted as he tried to catch his breath, arched against the bedding and moaning freely like he’d forgotten who he was. Nathanos grinned possessively, pleased in his choice at the newest member of his court. 

There was no surprise in it being Mathias who came first, riding out the pleasure with a choked off moan. His body taught like a drawn bow as he cast ribbons of white over his stomach and cried out something that could have been Nathanos’ name. It was a more intense feeling than masturbating had ever been, a wildfire of it burning him up from the inside and dulling his senses as the cresting tidal wave kept coming. 

Nathanos kept stroking them, slowly only when Mathias twitched and squirmed below him to escape, too weak to push him off. 

“Stop. Please,” Mathias gasped, drawing lungfuls of air into his body like a drowned man. 

“Too much?” 

Mathias nodded weakly and slumped bonelessly down on the bed when Nathanos freed him. The San’layn sat back on his haunches, stroking himself to the blissed out sight before him, his hand lubed by Mathias’ spend, worked furiously at his cock. A fresh blush blossomed over Mathias cheeks as he opened his eyes to the sight of being visually devoured by glowing red eyes. 

Nathanos smirked, remarked that he had good taste in men, then threw his head back and grit his teeth, coming as silently as the shadows he lived in. Mathias winced in disgust as he felt the cold cum splatter over his chest to join his own. 

The bed bounced as Nathanos flopped down beside Mathias and sighed in contentment. The night certainly hadn’t gone as planned, but he couldn’t complain when the outcome had been so delicious.

“That was fun,” Nathanos said as he stared up at the ceiling. 

Mathias grumbled that he needed a shower and forced himself to sit up. His arms still felt weak and his body resisted the need to move at all. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Nathanos asked. 

Mathias shook his head and swung his legs out of the bed, “you don’t have to, I’m not going to use you and then kick you out, but I understand if you have things to do instead of sleep.” 

Nathanos sprawled out over the bed, “I don’t sleep, but I’ll stay and use you as a hot water bottle.” 

“Can you at least clean yourself up so you don’t make a mess on my sheets?” 

Nathanos waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the Mathias and didn’t move, laughing only when Mathias threw a damp facecloth at him that landed on his chest with a wet slap. “Just get new sheets, I promise you that by morning they will be ruined.” 

Mathias frowned, “I can’t afford to buy new sheets every time you visit.” 

“Oh so this is happening again?” 

Mathias nodded, “of course it is, if you’re going to sire me then the least you can do is make my living life enjoyable.” 

Nathanos growled and pounced on Mathias, kissing him roughly as he smeared his hand through the mess still coating Mathias’ stomach. He grinned into the kiss as his victim squirmed and hissed, fighting to break free of the mess. 

“Asshole,” Mathias said as he pulled away and grimaced as he looked down at himself.

Nathanos nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. “I am.” 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How's Your Father?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507161) by [TrollSweat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrollSweat/pseuds/TrollSweat)




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